So I Dated A Chair
by HyperCaz
Summary: Dating in the Pegasus Galaxy. It's a new experience. Hopefully it won't get you killed. Beckett/chair. COMPLETE
1. 99 Red Balloons

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate. And "99 Red Balloons" by Nena does not belong to me either.

AN: This is set after the pilot, but before Hide & Seek. There are elements of The Return Pt 2. This fic is meant to act as a prequel to _So I Married A Chair, _but can be enjoyed regardless.

* * *

Two things are for certain in the Pegasus Galaxy. New experiences will abound, and mess halls will teem with troubled scientists. This thought occurred to Dr Carson Beckett as he balanced a cup of coffee with the last box he needed to unpack, standing at the hastily erected buffet. He had meant to do it last night, but there was something unsettling about the ceremony – opening the very last box meant dooming himself to an existence in Atlantis.

"I'll come back later..." he muttered and turned away from the mess hall.

A storm of hair smacked right into his eyes, and Carson staggered backwards blindly. He recovered to find a member of the science department wearing a dark stain over his blue shirt. Glancing down at his now empty coffee cup, Carson suppressed the sigh threatening to peel over his lips. Maybe he should just start packing everything up again...he might very well have declared war on all scientists. The truce was broken!

"Dr Beckett, you are alright?" queried the man in a thick accent as he raked fingers over his hair, "I am sorry but I am in need of someone with ATA gene."

Why didn't anyone say hello anymore? It seemed as though everyone had left their manners in another galaxy. Mindful of how costly a war with a certain Rodney McKay might be, Carson afforded a friendly smile. "Okay, lad. Lead on."

"Excellent."

Following with a resigned slump of his shoulders, Carson entertained himself with trying to identify his new shepherd. He sounded almost...Russian. But the flag patch presented a contradictory mystery. The scientist grinned back over his shoulder. "Atlantis is wild, no? It's much bigger than the Antarctic outpost. At least I have more chance of disappearing away from Dr McKay."

"When ye succeed with disappearing," Carson said to this, "Do not hesitate to tell me. Alright. Where are we heading?"

The scientist beamed. "Chair room."

A pair of shoes squealed to a halt, and then Carson was walking briskly away in the opposite direction. But he underestimated when the scientist's shock would wear off. Puffing and grumbling, but still managing to put himself in front of Beckett, the not-quite Russian forced out, "_Ne_, none of this. I would ask Major Sheppard, but he is, ah, you would say scouting."

"I'm not crazy, lad! If I set foot near that bloody chair, ye'll certainly be sorry! No – I won't do it!"

His antagonist blinked. "I am not asking for a miracle. I just want to know if the chair works."

Carson looked desperately up and down the corridor. His eyes lit up suddenly. Reaching up to his ear he tapped his headset and babbled a desperate plea over the radio to Elizabeth. Her voice sounded strained. "Carson, relax. Dr Zelenka is not asking you to do anything complicated."

"But General O'Neill – "

"You'll be fine. I'm sorry, but you're the only one with the gene I can spare at the moment."

"The infirmary – "

"_Carson._ The only medical emergency that has occurred in the last twenty-four hours was Rodney losing a bandaid. Dr Zelenka has assured me it won't take too long. Weir out."

And that was how Carson Beckett found himself gritting his teeth as he lowered his posterior into a cold, dusty chair that smelled as though the last user had died while using it. Needless to say, that wasn't comforting at all. "Good Lord, didn't ye think of giving this a dust off first?"

"I did," defended Zelenka, "Now please. The chair."

Carson squeezed his eyes shut, engulfing his sight in darkness. Maybe if he just pretended to concentrate! He grunted encouragingly. Zelenka buzzed impatiently somewhere nearby. More effort then? Carson plastered on a frown, creasing his forehead. The buzzing grew louder, like a terrible current of static grating over his ears. He growled, "I can't bloody concentrate if you keep up with that sound, son!"

"I'm not making any sound."

To his credit, Zelenka did sound sincere. Panic began rolling around Carson's gut. Next thing he knew, his feet went flying up as the chair slipped back behind him. As blood pounded behind his temples, the buzzing exploded into a high-pitched hum, sounding just like an alarm.

_WHO ARE YOU?_

Carson squirmed uncomfortably. Hearing voices, now? Great! Just wonderful! Well, why not just play along with this little delusion? He said out loud, "I am the CMO of the Atlantis expedition. Who are _ye__?_"

_I AM ATLANTIS._

"Not to disappoint ye, but I believe yer just a chair."

_I AM ATLANTIS. I AM IN ALL THINGS. ALL CHAIRS. ALL ROOMS._

"Can ye stop with the shouting? My head is banging something fierce."

_You should not be here, _the decidedly feminine voice growled, but softer.

A spike of static electricity shot down his spine, causing Carson to leap up and away in terror. He ran as fast as his legs could carry him, stoutly ignoring Dr Zelenka's indignant calls for him to return. Yes, new experiences were part and parcel of the Pegasus Galaxy – but alien voices from out of nowhere should _never_ sound so sexy.

* * *

When the Stargate flared to life after ten thousand years, the entity of Atlantis was understandably nervous. She imagined it would be the Wraith, finally there to crush her city's proud spires. But instead it was a horde of Lantean descendants, all staring around with wide, curious eyes, hands fondling everything from the walls to the heating crystals. Interfering humans! They nearly destroyed the city in mere hours!

And so the entity of Atlantis set out to make their stay as miserable as possible. The stairwells were either freezing or scalding, and water managed to seep into random corridors, even if they were above sea level. But she tired of this – they were stuck there, so was she. Her energy was better spent fending off their electronic probes, run off primitive devices that passed as computers. Even that was nothing to concern herself with. Their pathetic attempts at learning her secrets provided ample amusement, and then she returned to her lonely solace, sometimes disappearing into certain systems for days before resurfacing in the world of the humans.

They ignored her. She ignored them.

However, she could no longer ignore their feeble plundering when they discovered the primary chair room. At first, she hoped their blood from their ancestors would be too diluted to do anything, but there were two who could do some serious damage. And one of them was this intruder trying to activate her systems in that very moment! Angrily reaching out to vaporise his mind, she reared back in surprise.

_...bloody chair...don't activate...just pretend...stupid chair..._

That hurt! Who was he, to insult her? And his control was completely wild, not even disciplined enough to turn the lights off. Just who did he think he was anyway? The entity of Atlantis swiftly began her interrogation and met only with a confused mind, more terrified than malicious. She was too startled to carry out her murderous intentions and only managed to send him on his way.

_Just what are you doing? s_he snapped at herself, _The first person to activate the chair in ten millennia and you're already trying to kill him!_

She knew the Ancients would have run her through reprogramming if they'd known how much she'd been thinking for the past few thousand years. She thought some more.

_He did have a nice posterior..._

* * *

"I always feel like someone's watching me," Carson began from the comfy sofa of Dr Heightmeyer's Atlantis office.

He listened as she scratched away on some paper. The sound soothed him somewhat. All the craziness would be transcribed into some logical form, and then someone could tell him if he really was going a bit peculiar. After the silence began to disturb him, he ploughed on bravely, "First it was just, ye know, lights coming on in the corridors when I walked down them. But then my shower kept activating after my alarm went off. By itself. And someone or something keeps brewing coffee in my office."

"You do have the ATA gene," Dr Heightmeyer pointed out reasonably, "Perhaps you are just becoming attuned with the city, like Major Sheppard."

Carson grimaced. "But he doesn't get bloody coffee, does he now?"

"Alright. When did these feelings of unease start?"

"How about when I walked through the Stargate? Bloody insanity."

Heightmeyer's pen stopped moving briefly. She glanced over at his expression and fought a smile that hid behind her doctor-patient mask. It was well known how uneasy Dr Beckett felt about having his atoms rearranged for even the briefest of travels. She probed, "You said this only started happening recently."

"Oh, aye..." He considered this. "Maybe a week ago, after Dr Zelenka made me sit in the...oh crap, it was after I sat in the chair. I knew I shouldn't have sat in the bloody thing!"

"You were still feeling unsettled from your previous experience in an Ancient chair, weren't you?"

Well, that was true; those memories still haunted him, but... "I didn't hear voices the first time."

"You heard voices," she stated, her pen whipping across a fresh page.

That couldn't be good. Next thing he knew, he'd probably be sitting in a white padded cell, made up just for him. With a cup of tea and a cosy straight jacket, trying to scratch his nose with his own shoes. No, thank you. Carson gulped and scooted off the sofa. "I think, ah, I left some paperwork in my office. Erm, yes."

He scurried from the room in a panic. The door shut thoughtfully behind him. The light winked on over his head. A window opened on the side of the corridor, admitting deliciously fresh ocean air. Carson bit his lip and bolted for his quarters.

* * *

Humans. They simply had to ignore the obvious. Atlantis' entity had first found this trait endearing, but now she was reaching the end of her tether. Here she was, desperately trying to make contact with this "CMO" character, but every time she offered a greeting or some comfort, he would run off in the other direction. This new blame of paranoia hurt more than any of the insults he had so far thrown in her direction.

_Can he really think I won't go away? _she thundered to no one.

The original inhabitants of the city might have ignored her at times, but they always responded if she needed to alert them to something. But then, she had never done so for personal reasons. Such reasons hadn't existed until they had left the mortal realms behind.

_Left me behind...I will not be ignored again!_

* * *

He hadn't been entirely lying about the paperwork, but instead of attending to it, Carson found himself pulling up his own medical records. Just in case. Last CAT scan – all clear. What about now? Would there be such a device in the city? Oh, bother. He shot a few anxious looks about his darkened quarters, but no lights acted suspiciously.

Carson allowed a sigh of relief. Maybe it was all over. Maybe he could finally go to sleep without being afraid of his shower in the morning. He rubbed his eyes. God, he needed some shut-eye. His laptop screen flickered before his exhausted face. That was definitely a sign that he needed to make time for a nap. The screen flickered again. Battery running low?

He spent a good five minutes trying to find the power pack, before realising it was already plugged into the laptop. Feeling foolish, Carson stared at the laptop for another five minutes before realising that there was no way it should be flickering.

And then, just like that, it stopped flickering.

It was a blank screen, until the white writing appeared. Carson felt his stomach leap up into his throat.

_CMO of the Atlantis expedition. STOP IGNORING ME NOW!_

"Oh God."

Carson covered his face with his hands, peering through the gaps between his fingers. The writing persisted. He back-pedalled to his desk and snatched the cold cup of coffee, throwing it down his throat. The desk light winked on and off. He moaned and threw himself to the ground, closing his eyes. The laptop started switching through his music library, mostly on loud and annoying songs. Then it stuck on one that he hated, but somehow had neglected to delete.

"Ninety-nine red balloons go by..."

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" Carson cried and ran to the door.

It wouldn't open. He kicked it. The door hissed at him. Sliding to the floor, he watched the laptop screen in horror. More words were stringing across it now, all in stark white, growing larger and sharper in font.

_I do not like being ignored. I spared your life on the chair, and this is how you repay me? _

"Ye were going to kill me?" he whispered.

A pause. _Yes. But I didn't. So there. GO TO THE CHAIR._

"No, ye don't understand...I break things!"

_I'd like to see you try._

A challenge! This was sailing into absurd land very quickly. Carson lurched backwards as the door opened behind him. He stared up at the ceiling, at the rapidly twinkling lights, and felt more afraid for his life than he ever had before. Needing no more encouragement, he wove unsteadily off for the chair room, eyes wide with despair. All those he passed greeted him, but didn't notice how stiffly he replied or how he tried to silently signal their help.

All too soon, he was standing in front of the chair, hearing that ominous buzzing once more invading his senses. He hovered for a few moments, debating between insanity and logic. If he sat in the chair, it would probably fry his brain. If he didn't, he would be followed all over the city by scary flashing lights and hot showers. He shivered and sat down, the chair thrumming to life beneath him.

_Humans! So difficult!_

"Yer one to talk," Carson shot back.

_You ignored me._

Was she sulking? Could chairs, in fact, sulk? A burst of painful static crackled over his back in response to this. Carson sucked in a breath. "Not a chair, then."

_I am Atlantis. I am in all things. Then, yes, I am a chair here and now._

"If yer going to fry my brain, can ye get it over and done with?"

The chair began to hum and vibrate loudly. Carson found his mouth very dry. He cleared his throat. "What am I ta call ye then? Atlantis?"

_Perhaps. I was not named anything. Not like your names. CMO, that is a strange name..._

"It's not my name. It's my title – chief medical officer. I am, ah, a healer."

_A healer? _

He didn't want to be too hopeful, but that had sounded more interested and respectful than her past few comments. Striking at this chance, he continued, "Aye, I heal the sick. My name is Carson."

_Car. Son. Interesting. Humans no longer use the Lantean names._

The chair's sounds began to whine insistently. Carson shifted anxiously.

_Do the sounds bother you?_

"Yes. Are you trying to intimidate me?"

_I can distract you from that._

A new sound began to fill his ears – that of the most dreaded song! Carson covered his ears, but it still echoed around his skull. He scowled. "Not to anger ye, but I really don't like that song."

_Why not? I like it. _

"Well, I don't."

_And your point is?_

Carson sighed. "It's a song about ninety-nine red balloons. It annoys me."

_It's not about balloons!_ she chided, _It's about war._

"So people tell me."

The song died, leaving those much more worrying sounds – but right now, Carson would take those over the song-of-doom any day. He stretched out tentatively into the chair's systems and found the source of the sounds. Too much power being diverted from the generators. He closed his eyes and willed the diversion to cease. Silence reigned at last, and he dared to hope that he had rid himself of the voice.

No such luck.

_You're getting the hang of this, _she noted, impressed.

"Ye'll be sure to love Major Sheppard then. He's a natural."

_I've seen him. You have as much potential as he does. _

"Can I go now?" He tried not to sound too panicked.

A pause or two. Then the chair retracted, dimming away into darkness. Carson stood up, rubbing his back, pensive. He knew he should tell the science department immediately, but what if this entity didn't want that? She could lock him in his bathroom for eternity! With cold showers all day long!

And no way was he going to admit to sitting on the chair without being forced.

He had standards, after all.

* * *

The entity of Atlantis floated her awareness near the human named Carson for much of the day, intrigued. Now that she had focused more attention on his mind, she saw that he was a healer, a gentle soul with nerves of steel, when it came to the crunch. He had made no move to reveal her existence to anyone, and had stopped jumping every time she helpfully lit the corridors for him. She would have smiled if she had a body, because he was singing that song under his breath.

_At last, someone to talk to! _she exulted, _Someone who knows nothing of cold technical details, who will speak to me as a human!_

* * *

"Rodney, can I have a word?"

The head of the science department looked up from his newly appropriated lab bench and frowned heavily at his visitor. "I don't need any more bandaids."

Carson glanced at the colourful bandaids that Rodney already sported. "It's not about that. I was wondering... if it was possible that Atlantis was, in effect, an entity capable of thought."

"I hope the windows haven't started talking to you," Rodney replied blandly, "You might want to get that checked out."

Good Lord, did everyone know he had been hearing voices? Carson fought the urge to scowl like a child. "Theoretically speaking, Rodney."

"The Ancients figured out how to ascend to a higher plane of existence. I'm sure artificial intelligence was just a ripple in the vast pond of intellect to them. But if you're asking for proof of the city having thoughts, I haven't found anything conclusive."

"Thanks..." Carson sighed and left.

* * *

The sky was black as ink when Carson Beckett woke in the middle of the night. He blinked the crust of sleep from his eyes and tried to figure out why he wasn't blissfully unconscious. The sound of the shower alerted him to something out of place – it was squirting erratically. And then he noticed the room – it was absolutely freezing. Sliding out of bed, he made his way to watch his laptop. Instantly, the shower fell quiet and he stopped shivering.

"Alright, lass, ye've woken me up," he growled.

_Good. I need your help._

Resigned, Carson rubbed his eyes. "Of course ye do."

_Some of my systems are failing...because they are still submerged, I cannot fix them by myself. If I do not repair them this instant, the city's failsafe could crash._

"And that would mean...?"

_The city would sink. There would be no time for escape._

"Oh crap."

So that was why, ten minutes later, he was contemplating a vertical tunnel of water that lead down into a submerged control room. Carson kicked off his shoes, running over her instructions in his head. They seemed simple enough. Find the lever, pull the lever, water gets flushed out. And then sweet, merciful sleep would be his.

"Why am I even doing this?" he muttered, "Bloody insanity!"

He drew in a long, deep breath. After a few seconds, he exhaled slowly. No need to rush any of this. He was probably still going to end up with hypothermia, but he at least wanted to make sure he could hold his breath for as long as possible. Several minutes passed by before enough courage could be screwed up for the task. Carson snapped his arms to his sides and pin-dropped down into the darkness.

The water was cold enough to paralyse, and the black soulless water seemed to stretch on forever, confusing his senses. Then lights weakly pushed through in lazy air bubbles, and the water warmed against his skin. Grateful for the assistance, Carson found the strength to swim sluggishly to the control panel he'd been told about.

It wasn't hard to find, and even though the lever wasn't marked, it was right where Atlantis had said it would be. Carson tugged on it, but it snapped right back into position when he pulled away. He stared at it, tried again. Damn it! Aware of his lungs starting to burn, he kicked quickly away and managed to propel himself up to break the surface. He drew in a large, greedy breath of air, weakly pulling himself up to the side.

His legs were shaky as he walked to the nearest console. Carson punched a few keys to make his presence known and rasped, "The lever didn't stay where it should have. I'd have ta hold it down and I don't think I can keep underwater for that long."

_You have to try._

"I'm not the man for this. I can't do it."

_Carson. I have seen your mind. You have the hands of a healer, but the heart of a fearless leader. You cannot let your friends be in danger! I have no one else to turn to, no one else who would listen._

"I'm scared, love."

_And you think I'm not?_

"Don't hold yer breath for a miracle."

_I recommend that you, however, do hold a breath._

Carson shook his head, smiling humourlessly. But his fear was rapidly turning into resolve. Stilling his breaths again, he plunged into the water and made for the lever. He clasped both hands around it and pulled hard. A vague clunking sound coursed through the water. Then water brushed over his face like a strong breeze, swirling around the control room. His lungs protested very shortly after this, but he had to keep pulling.

Closing his eyes, he forced his arms to keep working hard. His hands trembled as his throat constricted. It was taking too long. He couldn't do it. No, he_ had _to do it.

Carson was still clenching the lever as he passed out into a watery oblivion.

* * *

Pain is a good thing. A good sign.

It means you're alive.

Carson became aware that he was almost kissing the sodden floor, lying on his stomach. At first he was confused. This wasn't the usual place he liked to hang his head at night. Blinking, he surveyed the floor for some clues. And then he scrambled to his feet in a panic, racing to the vertical tunnel and finding a ladder. He sprung up the ladder and hurtled over to the console. He demanded, "Did I do it?"

_Yes. Thank you. I am glad you are alright._

"I'm glad too. That was a wee bit close for my liking."

_You're shivering._

A hot blast of air coursed down from the ceiling, until he was dried from head to toe. Carson leant against the wall, taking deep breaths. His ribs hurt, his throat hurt, but he was _alive._ And the city hadn't sunk. He knew he should inform someone, but who would believe him?

And he was so _tired..._

* * *

The sun rose and threw promising rays of warmth over the city of Atlantis. All around, people who hailed from Earth were waking and strolling cheerfully down to the mess hall for conversation and a hot cup of coffee or tea. Athosian children were running underfoot, somehow avoiding colliding with adults of both cultures. A handy trick, perfect for keeping out of trouble.

But one inhabitant of Atlantis was not joining them. Striding purposefully, Carson Beckett made his way to the chair room, straightening his jacket. If he hadn't woken with a mild headache, he might have put the night before down to some bizarre dream. A hot shower had started as he rose from bed, an invitation for something more. So here he was, visiting the entity whose invitations were very hard to ignore.

"Good morning, lass," he greeted and settled down into the chair.

_Good morning, Carson. Are you feeling alright?_

"I feel...perfect. Ye wanted to see me?"

Her voice sounded unusually shy. _I know we did not begin our relationship on the best footing, but last night I discovered...I like you._

If he didn't know any better, he'd say the chair was coming on to him. Carson thought about this for a moment. Well, he did know better. He'd started feeling more of her mind, just as he was sure she felt his. She was lonely. She trusted only one person – and he was it. "Friends, then?"

_I rephrase. I really like you. Really, really like you._

"I'll need to...think about it."

_Is it because you can't see me?_ she asked flatly.

Carson found himself sweating nervously. "No – no! God, no. We just met. But I'll think about it. And I won't tell a soul about ye in the mean time."

_Good. I like having you to myself._

Smiling uncomfortably to this, Carson scooted out of the chair and went off to eat breakfast. He sung under his breath, "Ninety-nine red balloons go by..."

The entity of Atlantis called up the song and played it over a few times. She liked it. Seeing the name of the artist who sang it, she was delighted to find a name that any Lantean would have borne. A good name. Maybe Carson wanted her to have a name. Like a normal human.

_Nena. I will be called Nena._

* * *

AN2: More to come. Many thanks to those that made this possible, including OpenOffice (yay it works), Seanait (for inspiring the beckett/chair ship) and Gilari (for being enthusiastic).


	2. The Coffee Bandit

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

AN: I am so sprung! Yes, I admit that while trying to name Nena, I was trying to find something worthy of an Ancient, and so ended up thinking about a song I liked... lol

And much appreciation to Jinto and Wex, who somehow invaded this chapter. A post-Hide & Seek, pre-38 Minutes story.

* * *

There are a few bare essentials that human beings need in order to survive in an alien galaxy without tearing out each other's hair. Food, water and shelter, of course. They were the obvious ones. But they paled in comparison to the beloved coffee bean, the root of many a peace treaty between the medical and science departments. However, when the coffee stash vanished for a space of twenty-four hours, the true power of the coffee bean was revealed.

The first sign of trouble was at dawn, when one Rodney McKay snuck out of his laboratory, clutching his favourite coffee mug. He peeked around the corner into the mess hall and nodded with approval. Good, no one else to call him on using too much coffee. Gleefully, he scurried up to the buffet table and grasped for some instant coffee. His hand came back empty. Confused, Rodney reached out again, this time looking as he did so. Nothing. There was nothing. His puzzled expression gave way to a furious scowl. There had been literally a tonne of coffee! Where had it gone?

"Beckett!" he snapped as the thought occurred to him.

Then he charged off down to the infirmary, murder on his mind.

* * *

A soft beeping invaded Carson Beckett's sleep. He ignored it at first, but then curiosity got the better of him. He cracked open his eyes and noticed the patch of light working its way across the office from the window. Good Lord, had he been there all night? His back ached from hunching over his desk. Scratching at the stubble over his face, he pondered this. Well, why wake up now? His nose twitched.

"Coffee," he realised.

Brief panic fluttered in his chest, before he remembered that such occurrences were no longer out of place. Gratefully reaching for the warm coffee pouring from a small recess in the wall into his mug, he patted the wall. "Thank ye, Nena."

There were perks to being on friendly terms with the entity of Atlantis, Carson reflected. It had been a couple of weeks since she had made her presence known, and since then he had come to rely on a hot shower waiting for him, and then the welcoming scent of coffee. Stretching out the kinks threatening to inflict pain over his shoulders, he meandered out into the infirmary. Good, all quiet on the home front. Maybe he could sneak off to his quarters before the on-duty doctor noticed he hadn't left the night before.

He had almost made it when a flurry of blue and cream assaulted him at the door.

"Don't deny it!" Rodney stabbed a finger at his chest. "I know it was you!"

Carson steadied the scientist before he could stagger sideways. Roving an eye over Rodney's dishevelled appearance and wide eyes, he deduced that it was probably safer to be leaping off the top of Atlantis' higher spire than standing there in that moment. He cleared his throat. "And what is it yer accusing me of?"

"You stole all the coffee!"

"Why on Earth would I do that?"

Too late, Carson realised he was still holding his coffee. Rodney's eyes narrowed in on it and a desperate scowl began to flicker over his face. He swiped at it, but Carson quickly snatched it away. They watched each other evenly for a moment, then just when it seemed Rodney was calming down, he lurched forward and wrapped his hands around the mug. He gave a shout of triumph, but then found his arms trembling with the effort of doing battle. The coffee slipped out of his grasp, carefully caught by its rightful owner.

"I don't know what yer dithering about," Carson snapped. "But I've been in my office since lunchtime yesterday."

Rodney's face darkened. "You've probably got one of your minions to hide it."

"I swear to ye, I haven't touched the coffee supply. But if yer so desperate, ye can have mine."

"Really?" McKay asked hopefully.

Carson rolled his eyes and handed the mug over. He sighed. "Aye, it's all I've got. I'll see if I can find some more."

But he was talking to thin air. Rodney had bolted away with his prized coffee, most likely to find a nice hidey hole to enjoy it. Shaking his head resignedly, Carson stuck his hands in his lab coat pocket and walked off towards the chair room. He almost toppled over when he neared a transporter, finding an Athosian staff lying innocuously underfoot. Cursing, he bent to pick it up. When he straightened, he saw two pairs of eyes watching him reprovingly.

"You set off the trap," complained Wex, the small one, "Now we won't be able to catch any Wraith."

Just great. Now add even more children to his day – naturally, he counted the big kid that was Rodney McKay as one of them. He recognised them as Jinto and Wex. Carson held out the staff and warned, "I want ye two to be a wee bit more careful. Ye remember what happened last time ye were playing."

"Yeah, I found a cool transporter thing," Jinto replied cheerfully.

"And a dark entity that sent Lieutenant Ford to the infirmary!" Carson reminded him.

Jinto snorted. "But he's okay. And he said he was fine with it. Stuff happens."

"What are you doing down here anyway?" Wex piped up, "Dr Weir said this corridor was ours."

Remembering the recreational zones set up throughout the city, Carson glanced around. And so it was, but it was still the quickest route to the chair room. He had a feeling any excuse he came up with would find its way quickly to Elizabeth's desk. He covered feebly, "I like to go for walks in the morning."

"You walk to that chair a lot," Jinto added.

Oh crap. This would need more work than Carson had prepared for. He cleared his throat. "Have ye told anyone?"

"No, but we might!" Wex caught on.

Great, he'd just given them suspicious hints. Carson dug into his pockets for a while then pulled out some chocolate. His emergency stash, hidden from prying eyes by day in his lab coat, by night under his bed. The sacrifice was worth it, though. If Heightmeyer found out that he'd been talking _back_ to the voices, he'd never get out of her office. The children took the chocolate eagerly. Major Sheppard had made sure to acquaint them with the sweet taste.

"Ye never saw me, ye'll never see me," warned Carson.

Jinto and Wex exchanged nods, and then ran off down the corridor. Crisis averted. It was with much relief that Carson finally leaned back in the chair. He closed his eyes and just lay back for a few minutes. The chair warmed beneath him.

_Hello, Carson._

"Nena. I'm not sure how much longer I can get away with this."

_Sure you can. You don't seem to mind when I make you coffee._

"Speaking of coffee, you wouldn't happen..."

_To know who took it? Maaaaybe._

Carson grimaced at her playful tone. He still hadn't formed any sort of coherent answer to her making moves on him, and doubted he could ever come up with something that both made sense _and _spared his brain from being fried. "What's it going to cost me, lass?"

_You know the answer to that._

Perspiration formed on his forehead. Carson shook his head mutely and eased himself out of the chair. He offered a hasty farewell before sprinting off towards his quarters. More amused than angry, Nena made sure to switch on his shower. He was a curious human, that one. In one moment, he could fully accept that he was talking to her as a fellow living being, but in the next moment he was stubbornly seeing the chair as nothing but what it appeared to be.

Nena really did like him. Of all the humans to arrive from Earth, he was the most gentle. And the lilt of his voice was fascinatingly attractive. He was just so stubborn! She could feel the interest pricking the corners of his mind and he certainly visited her enough. Perhaps before he could trust her, she needed to show her own trust.

Perhaps it was time to show him the secondary chair room, where she really was. Where she could really...be with him.

A thrill of anxious excitement shot through her systems. For the umpteenth time, she was thankful that the Alterans had abandoned her. If they had so much as suspected her of forming an attachment to anyone, her program would be wiped and replaced with something cold and unfeeling. And if they'd found out how she was planning to connect with someone...

It was forbidden. The punishment was unspeakable. Nena would have shivered if she was human. As it was, all the screens in the control wavered for a few seconds. She needed to concentrate for now. The new people of Atlantis needed her attention.

_Stop thinking about him! _she scolded herself.

But as he was always in sight of Atlantis' security systems, that was proving a little difficult. He was very distracting. Especially since he was in the shower right that moment...

* * *

An emergency meeting was called in the conference room, attended by only a select few. Rodney McKay settled himself at the head of the table, informing everyone that this crisis was indeed the most grave that Atlantis had ever faced. Not even dark energy-sucking entities came close. Elizabeth took a different view of the matter, however.

"I hardly think a lack of coffee will stop all of you from doing your jobs properly," she pointed out practically.

Rodney's jaw slackened. "Are you serious? Do you realise how many of my brilliant ideas occur to me at night? And that without coffee, I might lose them forever?"

"Calm down, McKay," Major Sheppard interjected, "I'm sure you can be brilliant all on your own."

This mollified the scientist, but only for a moment. Before he could start on more reasons why coffee was integral to the expedition, Carson spoke up. "Elizabeth, it might be prudent to supply the buffet table with more local fruit. Is there any sort of fruit like an apple that can wake someone up?"

"There is one fruit that my people use," Teyla added, "We mix it in our morning tea, so that we might meet the day with fortitude."

"Apples," Rodney muttered, disgusted.

Even John looked alarmed at that. He stood up. "Alright, let's hold that thought for as long as possible. I'll find out who was in the mess hall late last night. We'll have some people check out places you could hide coffee – balconies, transporters, that sort of thing. Carson, let me know if any scientist looks cheerful today. That'll give us a suspect."

"Should we be turning this into a manhunt?" Elizabeth objected.

Major Sheppard grinned. "No, but it'll give McKay something to do."

* * *

Nena wasn't too surprised when Carson returned to the chair. Muttering about scientists and manhunts, he activated the chair with barely a thought and reached out to her presence. All to eager to please, Nena focused all her attention on him.

"I give up, love. Who took the coffee?"

_Wouldn't you like to know..._

She loved teasing him. The adorable frown on his face was worth it. Generally, she was patient, but enough was enough. Now to push a little harder. _I will tell you...if you agree to have a "date" with me._

"A-a date?" repeated Carson nervously, "Well I don't know..."

_It's just one date. It is no more dangerous than stepping through the Stargate._

He chuckled uncomfortably. "That's still fairly dangerous, then."

_Not as dangerous as a war with the science department over coffee. Come on, Carson. One date. Then I will not force the issue anymore._

Coffee War, or dating a chair. Carson got a headache just thinking about either one, let alone trying to decide between them. But then, one would last months and the other mightn't even last one night. The option seemed simple enough, but he'd learned never to trust first impressions. Especially not in this galaxy. He caved. "Alright. I'll do it. One date."

He held his breath, but nothing happened. The sky didn't fall, the city didn't sink and the ocean's rumbles stayed as distant as ever. The breath escaped his lips. No apocalypse now, but there was always time for that later.

_You could have made that sound nicer... _wheedled Nena.

"Nena..." Carson protested, then sighed. "I would be honoured to have a date with ye."

_Perfect! Now..._

* * *

"It's really hard to breathe in here," complained the echoes of a small voice.

Carson peered into the ventilation shaft, catching a glimpse of Wex's feet, wiggling as the boy shuffled away from the light. A crackling noise in one lab coat pocket directed Carson's gaze down, to where Jinto was investigating the contents, clearly hoping for more chocolate. Suppressing the urge to laugh, Carson kept his focus on Wex. God forbid anything bad should happen, but it wouldn't hurt to be cautious.

"I can't see anything!" Wex continued moodily, "Is it down here?"

Carson tapped the wall. "Lights please, Nena."

A sharp stream of light blew out from the shaft. Jinto and Carson shielded their eyes, and what sounded suspiciously like Athosian curse words bounced out in Wex's annoyed voice. Jinto looked up curiously at Carson. "How'd you do that?"

"I asked nicely, son," was the maddeningly adult answer.

Even with the light, Wex seemed to be having trouble. His booted feet continued to swing from side to side, and his protests grew louder. "It's a dead end! This is so pointless. Jinto, we could be playing Major Sheppard and the Wraith right now."

"We wouldn't have chocolate!" Jinto insisted.

"You can look instead, then!"

Rolling his eyes, Jinto jumped up and began wiggling down the ventilation shaft after his friend. Alarm occurred to Carson at this point. One lost boy he could manage, but two? He shoved his head into the shaft then hoisted himself into the enclosed space. The lighting was too bright inside and the air was thick with thousands of years of decay. Carson coughed and wheezed.

"Jinto? Wex?"

"Up here!" Jinto called. "We found another passageway."

Squirming ahead, Carson made out their forms against the light. He managed to catch up to them just as they disappeared down a sharp-angled turn in the shaft. Barely able to squeeze past the juncture, he whispered to the wall, "Dim the lights, please. Can't ye make this any wider?"

He didn't expect an answer to the last, but it felt good to complain about something. The lighting faded enough so that the three of them no longer had to blink against the glare. Breathing a sigh of relief, and meeting stale air, Carson called out directions to the boys. Wex grumbled something but Jinto shushed him loudly. "Chocolate, Wex! Chocolate!"

"Aye, chocolate! Chocolate!" chanted Carson tiredly.

It turned into a mantra, sung three times and echoed back at them from up ahead. After a few minutes, Wex stopped singing and shouted, "Dead end!"

"That's what you said the first time, Wraith breath!" Jinto chortled.

Wex started on another tirade, but his voice turned into a shriek of terror that reverberated back down the shaft. Carson jerked forward, slamming into Jinto who then shouted out. The Athosian child disappeared before his eyes. Confused and panicked, Carson shifted forward – and found himself falling face first down into the pull of gravity. He cried out as the silver tunnel kept going on and on, finding his lungs clenching.

"Neeeena!" he managed before he hit the ground.

* * *

Carson rolled over and stared up the vertical shaft with some vehemence. No, make that all the vehemence he could muster. He even growled at it in Gaelic. Once he'd got it all off his chest – he felt better already – he noticed twin sets of giggles pinging against his ears. He sat up and looked over at Jinto and Wex, who had found themselves one of the biggest piles of chocolate bars Carson had ever seen. Well. Good for them.

Then he saw the coffee stash.

"I really, really like ye, Nena," he breathed.

Dipping his hands into the pile of instant coffee sachets, he grinned broadly and dove alongside the children, sampling the divine chocolate. Jinto waved him off. "This is ours, Dr Beckett."

"Ye never saw me - "

"And we never, ever will," chorused Jinto and Wex.

* * *

The funny thing about secrets is that they have a habit of getting out, even when all lips are sealed. Whether this is due to telepathy or secret surveillance tapes, humans may never know. But in the case of Atlantis, the very city itself could see everything that went on in the corridors, rooms and even showers. Slightly disturbing, but also slightly helpful in springing the great coffee and chocolate bandit from Earth.

Carson knocked politely on the door. A bird's nest of hair appeared on the other side, followed by a welcoming grin. "What can I do, hm? Tweaking? Fixing? Or...supplies?"

"Dr Zelenka," Carson began calmly, "Ye can start by not making off with all the coffee and chocolate again. Or I'll have ta tell Elizabeth."

The scientist blanched immediately. He stammered out some foreign words before gesturing for his visitor to come in. Zelenka quickly shut the door and spun around. "It was my chocolate, my stash. My personal item. It became...valuable. And then I wanted more. The coffee."

"Consider the chocolate waylaid. So ye'll make no fuss or I'll make sure everyone knows."

"You are really evil, Dr Beckett," Zelenka muttered.

Carson smiled, taking pity on him. "Sorry it turned out this way, lad, but if ye play with coffee, yer bound to get burned."

"_Ano_, I am becoming aware of this..."

Sidestepping Zelenka, Carson fixed him with a wink. He opened the door and turned his head over his shoulder. "Please, call me Carson. If ye happen to have any more supplies, I think ye'll be seeing more of me."

"Then I am Radek," the scientist returned, slightly more cheerful.

Carson dipped a hand into his pocket and tossed over the chocolate bar he'd managed to swipe from Jinto. They exchanged knowing nods. Then the CMO of Atlantis was off down the corridor, whistling some pop song as he went.

* * *

Carson glared at his reflection in the mirror and adjusted his top one last time. God, you'd think he hadn't dated a woman in...well, it had been some years. But that was no reason to get so nervous. It wasn't like she was a human, after all. He gulped and dove into the pile of discarded clothes on his bed. Fingering yet another beige shirt, he cursed.

"Ye'd think I'd have thought to bring something nice to wear!" he bemoaned, "No one said anything about dating in the Pegasus Galaxy."

Maybe it was some unwritten code; or the reason why John Sheppard had slipped hair gel into every pocket before stepping through the Stargate. Smart man. But solving that riddle didn't help his current predicament. Carson rolled off the bed and took one last desperate look in the mirror. If he couldn't dress nicely, he had to compensate in other ways. He grabbed his jacket and took off in a sprint towards Major Sheppard's quarters. He banged mercilessly until John appeared, holding a thick book in his hands.

"Am I disturbing ye?" Carson asked nervously.

John coughed and threw _War and Peace_ over his shoulder. "'Course not. What can I help you with?"

"Hair gel."

This got John's interest. He grinned slyly at the doctor before reaching into the back pocket of his pants. Holding out the small tub, he commented, "I call this one 'fun size'. So. You got a hot date or something?"

"That's not yer concern, Major," Carson replied airily, "But many thanks."

With that, the CMO spirited the hair gel away and galloped off down the corridor. John watched him go, shaking his head. Just when he thought he'd got the Scot figured out, something weird like this happened. Oh well. If you couldn't get out in the Pegasus Galaxy, when could you?

* * *

Applying the finishing touches to his hair, Carson almost didn't notice his laptop flashing at him. He wiped his hands on the lab coat hanging from the wall and sat down to read the message waiting for him. It was from Nena.

_Follow the lights outside._

"Give me a minute, my dear," he told her, then pulled the cuffs of his jacket down over his wrists. Had the bloody thing managed to shrink in half an hour?

Oh crap. He was just going to have to go through with this. A deal was a deal. Carson despairingly stepped out into the corridor. A light grew bright down one passageway so he followed, still tugging at his cuffs as he went. The air of mystery surrounding this was somehow exciting, though his enthusiasm waned even further when the lights led him down into a corridor beneath the city that swam with murky water. Wonderful. Now he was going to turn up with dirty shoes and socks.

He sighed. "This is not funny."

Wading through the silt, Carson was struck with the wild thought of turning and running as fast as he could to the 'Jumper bay, then heading off into the safe sunset. He'd yet to pilot one of the infernal machines – and vowed never to in the future – but even that became a temptation. By the time he'd finished thinking this, he was at a door. It screeched open in front of him, revealing a bright domed room cluttered with chrome machinery. Rodney would have itched to touch everything.

Carson carefully made his way through the maze of debris before following the light into an adjoining room. He paused as he noticed the secondary chair of Atlantis. Of course, this shouldn't be impossible, but it was still surprising. The chair glowed invitingly.

"Well hello there, love," Carson managed, "I would have brought ye some nice flowers, but the only ones I could find were ten thousand years old."

He gingerly settled down into the chair, but didn't even wince when it whooshed back in activation. Her voice rolled over him, louder and stronger than before. _That's fine. I like your hair._

"Er, glad ye like it."

There was a short, uncomfortable silence.Nena panicked quietly to herself. Was she disappointing him already? Time to prove herself, then. A holographic image of a woman crackled to life, standing in front of the chair. Carson jumped in surprise. He opened his mouth, then shut it, merely taking in the strange image wavering before him. Sparkling emerald eyes and royal auburn hair flecked with gold, she was a true vision. The woman's lips began speaking, but it was still Nena's voice sounding in his mind.

_I wanted you to see me as a human. I thought this would look nice for you. Do you like it?_

"It's certainly...different," Carson noted, trying not to look too hard in certain places, "I guess I do like it. Ye didn't have to try and impress me."

_Feels like I have to impress you or you won't bother noticing me._

"Oh, lass. That's not how it is at all. This is very new for me. Didn't ye notice earlier I was worried about impressing ye myself?"

_Yes..._ she said uncertainly.

"Well, then. What now?"

His blue eyes were beautifully sincere, captivating. Nena felt strangely pulled towards him, though the sensation was strange and new. She'd never had a form like this before. Though the hologram could not make physical contact, Nena was more than happy to show how it could pretend to. She sat across his lap and fixed him with a grin. Carson flinched slightly, as it was a peculiar feeling to have her sitting on him but not feeling it.

But then he was returning her grin. "Guess it's yer turn to do the sitting."

_Don't get your hopes up! Ha!_

If anyone noticed that Carson slinked back into his quarters at midnight, they didn't say a word. As it was, someone did notice him slinking into the mess hall later at dawn with a precious supply of coffee. But Zelenka thought it wise to look the other direction.


	3. Suspicious Minds

Disclaimer: I own shorts. That is all.

AN: I got so totally stuck for this chapter. Many rewrites, inspiration from a season 4 episode (Quarantine) and a hangover later, here it is. Set any time after Hide & Seek, any time before 38 Minutes.

* * *

Dating etiquette in the Milky Way galaxy dictates that if one party promises to call the next day, they do not have to follow through with this promise. Forcing the other party to wait needlessly, as it dawns on them that they will never get that phone call, is common practice. Humans of Earth are well versed in such a custom, but it might not occur to them that the rules of an entirely different galaxy are somewhat different.

This _had _occurred to Dr Carson Beckett no less than several thousand times over the past seven days, and was thus the reason why he'd cheerfully volunteered his services off-world. But not a single mission called for his assistance.

Staring at his malfunctioning shower one early morning, he realised that the situation was becoming dire. This called for drastic action. Ignoring his smoking laptop, Carson grabbed a pair of shorts, changed quickly and sped off in the direction of the nearest pier. As he drew up, puffing and panting, to the transporter, he noticed something peculiar. Two legs were writhing outside in the corridor, while frustrated voices bounced out from the transporter.

"You're doing it all wrong!" Rodney groused. "Put the crystals away before you hurt yourself."

A few expletives in Czech answered this. Carson peered into the transporter and raised his eyebrows. Zelenka was lying on his back, attempting to slide underneath a crystal panel while Rodney stamped around him and fiddled with the crystals on top. Both scientists glanced up at him disinterestedly at first, then with stunned double takes.

"What'd I do?" Carson asked, knowing he'd regret it.

Zelenka coughed. "You are wearing...shorts."

"Aye. I'm going swimming."

"No, you're not," Rodney interjected. "Access to the outside is kind of impossible right now."

A sinking sensation manifested itself in Carson's stomach. "Since when?"

"All exterior doors locked five minutes ago," Zelenka answered, adjusting his glasses so that his head could fit under the panel.

Sweat trickled down between Carson's shoulder blades. He uneasily rubbed a thumb over his chin. Very slowly, he raised his gaze up the transporter walls to where he knew the eyes of Atlantis were ever watchful. He could have sworn something twinkled mockingly at him. A great sense of doom pressed down on his shoulders. This was not good. Not good at all.

"Oh crap," he whispered.

Rodney snorted. "'Oh crap' is correct. None of the transporters are working, which means I have to walk for thirty whole minutes to the mess hall. I won't make it that far without food! And to top off this lovely day that I am enjoying, my shower spat out sewage this morning."

Good Lord. All this, just to get back at him?

Carson trembled.

* * *

Nena, to put it mildly, was furious. She had had such a lovely date with him, and they'd talked until the middle of the night. But for seven – whole – days! Not a peep! Not even an explanation! And so the great scheme of vengeance was born. At first, it was the little things. Someone's toilet might not flush. A window might get stuck. There might be more static electric shocks than usual. But as usual, humans proved ridiculously clueless as to her wrath.

The seventh day arrived. Her anger soared.

_You will concede! _she vowed darkly, _And then we will have a very long, very painful discussion._

Nena's hologrammatic image paced in the secondary chair room, hands wringing, face glowering. What she wouldn't give to be able to smash her fists into the wall. Or against his chest, his warm, solid, inviting chest currently on display in the corridor outside his apartment...Nena stopped short and covered her mouth with a hand. That would not do.

_I am ANGRY with him! ANGRY! ANGRY! VERY ANGRY. And I will FRY HIS BRAIN._

She considered this.

_No...I know a fate worse than death._

* * *

"My door won't open."

This sort of statement is one echoed throughout many galaxies, but none with consequences so desperate as this occasion. Radek Zelenka shifted his head to one side and took in the image of a condemned man in front of him. Five minutes ago, Carson had been disturbed, but at ease. Now he looked downright nervous.

"Maybe you should have thought of that _before_ you stepped outside half-naked," suggested Rodney.

Carson's eyebrows knitted in frustration. "It's not like a planned this, ye know. I jus' wanted a nice swim..."

"Ah, technically, Carson," Radek piped up, "Dr Weir has yet to allow swimming. We don't know all the creatures that could be living around here."

To this, Carson had but one thing to say.

"Coffee."

Zelenka shut up immediately. His glasses slipped down his nose and he hurriedly pushed them up, glancing up at Rodney with wide, panicked eyes. If the hypochondriac who was responsible for his pay check ever found out the answer behind the disappearance of the coffee, there would be hell to pay. There might even be a demotion. To serving in the mess hall! Or, even worse, _the biology department_. Zelenka's shoulders shook slightly.

Rodney, thankfully, was busily peering along a hairline crack in the wall. "Interesting. Looks like a failsafe mechanism to work the transporter if the primary power source was cut."

"My door. Will not. Open!" exclaimed the fuming CMO.

"So give it a smack," Rodney griped, glaring at him.

"I already did!"

"Well that just proves that we're not dealing with the Bill Gates' software of the Pegasus Galaxy."

"_Ano_," agreed Zelenka, "Atlantis is more sensible. Like Linux. Much too sophisticated for smacking."

Carson smacked a hand against the side of the transporter. The lights abruptly shot to life. He gave the scientists a perfect eyebrow-raise. "My door will not open. Which one of ye kind lads wants to help me with this?"

"Coffee," squeaked Zelenka and quickly made his way down the corridor.

Rodney prodded the display screen on the back wall. "It's still not working."

"What am I," Carson said dryly, "A bloody miracle worker?"

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, the inhabitants of Atlantis began to notice large drops in room temperature. The walls whirred with the constant pouring of air through the ventilation shafts, in turn making the floors shake as icicles began to grow around the vents. Several computer terminals shorted out, screens burning from the exertion of the city's mad ice age. Carson Beckett certainly noticed how much colder it was.

Rubbing hands over the goose bumps that spread like a rash over his arms, he succumbed to violent shivers. Zelenka peered back at him. "Do you want my jacket?"

"No, not at all!" Carson replied, scandalised, "This is just a breeze where I come from."

The Czech scientist held his hands up to pacify, then turned his attention back to the door. He let out a deep sigh, and his breath ghosted out in front of his face. He swiped a hand through the fog that formed and leaned forward, squinting his eyes as his glasses frosted. Zelenka grumbled a curse and took of the glasses. He held them up to the light, mouth opening in surprise as he studied the ice caking the lenses.

"Jezis..."

The sound system crackled painfully for a few seconds, before Elizabeth Weir's voice filled the corridor, "I urge all of you to remain calm. We are working as fast as we can to restore all systems. If you are feeling at all unsure or concerned, find some other people to stay with."

"You should help Rodney," Carson found himself speaking slowly, "I think I should go to the infirmary."

Zelenka nodded and scooted up from the floor. He shrugged apologetically, then pointed to his jacket again. While Carson's arms were intensely freckled with goose bumps, he didn't fancy travelling under the colours of the science department. He'd never hear the end of it. Besides, he'd faced worse back home! Hadn't he?

He had been drinking a case of beer at the time, perhaps...

Carson began jogging towards the infirmary – the long way. Yuck. Maybe all those stairs would help warm him up. Excellent plan. He'd almost made it to the first stairwell when the clunking noises started unnerving him. It had started maybe a minute since he'd heard the first one, bouncing down the corridor with finality in its echo. He kept jogging straight, eyes fixed ahead on the entrance to the stairs.

"I will NOT turn around," he vowed.

Damned if he'd let that bloody chair get to him.

And then there was a triple thud, completely with suspicious crunching noises.

Carson whipped around and stared, agape, as doors he didn't even know existed appeared out of nowhere to seal off the corridor behind him. Watching as the Mexican wave of sliding doors approached him, he fought to keep the panic from bubbling up his thought. "Oh crap...this can't be good."

Running was good. Yes. His feet ploughed along as though through concrete and the next loud thud told him his time was fast disappearing. Carson bent over and ran for his life.

THUD.

THUD.

His heart jumped all the way out of his ribcage. Panting, Carson stretched out his legs as far as he could and flew over the floor.

THUD.

Almost to the stairs! They weren't so small and far away now. Relief was a luxury that was best sampled later, but he allowed one tiny victorious thought. His right foot went down harder than it shoulder have, rolling to one side. Carson yelped in alarm and began limp-running. Up ahead, part of the wall collapsed to give way to another mysteriously appearing door that slid out over the stairwell entrance like a second skin.

Oh. So not good.

His right ankle spasmed with a flame of pain and Carson gasped breathlessly. Not enough time! He flattened himself against the wall and hurled himself sideways across the finishing line, just as the door clamped shut behind him.

THUD!!

Carson lay on his stomach, contemplating the floor with his nose. Smooth and frigid. Smelt kind of metallic, with a hint of rubber-soled shoes. He wondered what it would taste like. His tongue was about a millimetre away from the floor when reason exploded behind one ear, sounding very much like Rodney McKay.

_Are you CRAZY? _

"I'm not sure," he replied helplessly.

_Tongue. Cold surface. Want me to draw a diagram?_

"Ah. My tongue would be stuck."

_Not to mention you'd technically be licking Nena._

That didn't sound too bad actually.

_You are a sick, sick man._

"I didn't say anything!" Carson protested wildly.

_Whatever. Are you just going to lie here all day and wait for the city to have its wicked way with you?_

"Lovely wording."

_Thank you. I do try._

"Get out of my head please."

_No. I think I'll stay. It's very roomy here._

"Yer trying to drive me mad!"

_You did that all your own. NOW GET UP._

Carson leapt to his feet, gave the door behind him one last frightened glance and hobbled up the stairs.

* * *

"I had no idea it was casual Friday," Dr Biro remarked in greeting.

Flushing all the way to the back of his neck, Carson mumbled an obscenity and dove for the nearest spare lab coat. He drew it around himself and grabbed a bandage to belt the coat closer around his waist. Glaring around at all the amused expressions pointed his way, daring them to make another single comment, Carson limped down between the rows of beds.

"Cases of hypothermia?" he barked at the nearest member of his staff.

"None reported yet. But we wouldn't be able to do much anyway – the city has been closed up into sections."

A ball of ice embedded itself in Carson's throat, a symptom that had nothing to do with the temperature. Good Lord...this was a good deal more serious than he had imagined. Soon people would run out of their natural reserves of heat and, with no way to get warm, there could even be fatalities. How did he end up in this mess anyway?

_You ignored Nena._

Aye, but there was a perfectly logical reason for that.

_Like what?_

How can I count the ways? How about the fact that she's a...

"BLOODY CHAIR!" Carson finished out loud.

"Yes, Dr Beckett," one of the younger doctors answered, terrified, and wheeled over a chair.

Carson stared at it uncomprehendingly. Then he announced, "Alright. Listen up. Several corridors around the infirmary are still open and there could be people nearby in need of some assistance. Some of ye should take a look around to make sure. Everyone should keep their radios on. We may need to talk some people through their own treatment."

The crowd broke up immediately.

"Oh," Carson added, as an afterthought, "Can someone get all these chairs out of the infirmary?"

* * *

Watching the unfolding mayhem via the surveillance system, Nena had to admire her handiwork. Even if humans were quick to start slapping the walls and stomping on the floors, they were more amusing than irritating. And so far, there had been ten cases of tongues being frozen onto the walls alone, not counting consoles and that certain ceiling incident. Each time another fool was eager to taste the ice growing over the walls, Nena would call up her hologram in the secondary chair room and practice her maniacal laugh.

Too bad no one was around to shiver with fear at the sound!

Carson kept surprising her, but she supposed she should have known he would be keen to get to the infirmary to help people. He was caring, gentle, nice...

_No! Not nice. Very, very not-nice. How dare he leave me hanging! _

Maybe he _was _being nice. Maybe he couldn't figure out a way to tell her it wasn't going to work. Nena's thoughts screeched to a halt at that one – even letting the cooling program slip for just a second. What if he was just trying to let her down gently?

A drip of water snaked down the windows of the gateroom. Frowning at it, Nena tried to focus her thoughts more logically, but she felt as though her core was burning. Something inside was snapped, broken. Condensation began to pour down from the ceilings, freeing that one unfortunate and foolish soul who'd had their tongue stuck there for half an hour.

Fragments of sound and images swirled before her, distorted and beyond comprehension. She didn't care. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered...!

The city could sink for all she cared. Because...she loved Carson.

Warmth filtered slowly through the city, though there was still a chill in the bones of those it passed.

* * *

An infirmary window exploded inwards. Generally, this sort of thing didn't happen, not even when the scientists were fiddling with some new dubious toy. So some very curious stares turned towards the window as warm air rushed into the infirmary. A head of dark scruffy hair poked in, followed by the wide grin of Major John Sheppard.

"How's things?" he asked companionably, sliding inside gingerly.

Carson offered half-hearted wave. "Oh, ye know. Just a bit nippy."

"Good thing I always bring the weather with me."

Already a sea of white lab coats was crowding around the window, belonging to grateful faces that drank in the usually brisk but now warm ocean air. Carson shooed them so that he could talk to John. "Major, I take it ye need my assistance."

"Nice shorts," John commented.

Carson glared.

Sheppard relented. "Yeah...Ford took quite a knock to the head and our radios have been down. He's doing okay, but he's seeing more than ten fingers..."

"Where is the lad?" Carson asked, once again sensing that this question would be followed by regret.

"Two levels down, off to the right."

Why couldn't medical situations ever be simple? Carson sighed loudly and strode over to the wall. He snatched up a backpack medical kit, tightening it over his shoulders. Dr Biro cleared her throat. "Are you sure you don't want someone else to go?"

"If you think a wee thing like the fact that I'm only wearing shorts and a lab coat will keep me from helping my patients," Carson snapped, "Then ye don't know how I operate!"

Grimly, he walked back over to the window, favouring his injured ankle. This shouldn't be so hard. John gave him a worried look before shrugging and heading out the window. Rolling his eyes up to the ceiling, knowing that Nena was probably watching, Carson hoisted himself out as well and nearly slipped immediately.

"Whoa, watch it, Beckett," John cautioned from somewhere below him.

Carson hooked an arm around a nearby pole and prayed hard. His left leg dangled uselessly until the sole of his foot connected with the slope of the exterior wall, allowing him to slide down slowly while mirroring the action with his arm and the pole. He realised he couldn't see a bloody thing, so wrenched his eyes open. Great, how pathetic would that be if he fell of Atlantis just because he had his eyes closed.

John's voice drifted up to him. "Almost there, just have to hang a right."

The crunching of glass underfoot told him that the Major had reached his destination, but it sounded awfully far away. Carson glanced down and gulped. It was a long way between his feet and the ocean. Okay, he could do this. Maybe if he shut his eyes again.

_Sure, very helpful._

Shut up.

_You shut up._

"Yer climbing down the side of the central tower," growled Carson, "And ye still manage to argue with ye self."

_Tell me about it._

* * *

An odd sort of twittering erupted through the life signs sensors. Nena clamped down hard on them, but they wobbled and wailed with protest. It took her several moments to figure out she was scared. Emotions played havoc with her systems – she still didn't know what everything meant when it came to how she felt. Already she regretted freezing Atlantis...not only did it cause some circuits to short out painfully, it made her feel sick in her...stomach.

_I don't have a stomach! Huh. Deep breaths. That's what a human would do. Take deep breaths. Very deep breaths._

This didn't work at all. Maybe nothing would. Simply because the human she loved was hanging outside the city, in danger, all because of her! Stupid, stupid! Now he would probably never speak to her again!

Her constant surveillance hitched, chattering with static, as his footing failed. Nena would have bit her lip, or screamed, or tore her hair out by now if she was from the planet Earth. But clearly this situation called for some more Lantean methods. Of course, she allowed one enraged shriek to echo around the secondary chair room – only briefly – and then she was out of time for thought.

Carson was going to fall! And it would be her fault.

_There is a way..._she mused, _It would be forbidden to change the very form of the city itself!_

Just how many rules had she broken since they'd left her alone all those millennia ago? What was one more? Nena smiled and pushed hard, forming several hand and foot holds all down that side of the spire. At first he resisted, fingers scraping deliberately away, but she persisted until his hands clasped hers in trust.

As he clambered back into the city to help his patient, she thrummed with relief. The city began to thaw. And then she heard his whisper, "We need to talk."

* * *

Carson opened up his laptop on his desk, sniffing it cautiously. Discerning no smoke, he ran an anti-virus just to be sure. He sneezed a couple of times and grabbed at some tissues. Muttering darkly, he blew just about everything but his brains out into one tissue. He paced in front of his laptop for a few minutes, rubbing at the sleeves of his jacket, though he was no longer cold. He suspected he wouldn't be wearing shorts for a very long time.

_Carson._

He stopped and peered at the laptop, seeing the text. "Nena. I want ye to just listen. Say nothing."

_As you wish._

Carson rested one hand on top of his head restlessly, before walking gingerly over to his bed. He lay back and propped up his right leg on top of some pillows, sighing in relief. Hopefully that wouldn't get any more swollen than it already was. He propped his arms up behind his head, staring unseeingly up at the ceiling, beyond to the stars that were so different and alien from the ones he had grown up with. Not that he'd had much time for stargazing.

"Ye endangered the lives of my friends," he began quietly, "For that there is no excuse. No one was hurt, this time. Ye can't just lock down the city because yer feelings got hurt. We live here too. But I was daft to ignore ye, and there is no excuse for that either. I can't imagine how lonely ye must have been before we came. Before I came. I should have talked to ye after our date...but the fact is, it was too perfect."

The laptop flashed an interested shade of red, but Nena made no comment.

"I really like ye, and I enjoyed being with ye. But there is a smaller and smaller part of me that can't seem ta see past what I first saw ye as. I feel like I can't make the distinction. If ye were human, I'd have known what to do and say. But yer not, and I don't."

Carson sat up, regarding the silent laptop. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and resumed pacing, though his ankle brought more than a wince to his face. He continued, "My own mum would tell me that it didn't matter what anyone looked like, jus' what they _were_ like. Today ye made me fear ye and it's a lesson I can't forget easily."

_I will be better, for you._

"Will ye, Nena?"

_Yes! This is so new to me, these strange malfunctions...feelings. I felt broken inside._

"That was my fault," Carson admittedly guiltily.

_I don't understand what you are trying to tell me. Are you still mad enough to ignore me? Or have you decided to see me again?_

"Hold that thought."

Carson snapped his laptop shut and walked briskly towards the bowels of the city, hands shaking in the pockets of his pants. The journey to the secondary chair room seemed longer than ever, but as he finally approached her true self, he found his heart lighter. Without a word, he bent over and pressed his lips to the headrest of the chair. Blue light hummed softly in response, and Nena's hologram image shone into view. She bit her lip.

_I'm sorry_, Nena said uncomfortably, _It is not in my nature to ignore the suffering of the people under my protection. This time I caused it. If your ancestors were still here, they would kill me without a thought. I promise you, next time I will not stand idly by. This I did for myself, and I will do it for you._

Carson finally smiled at her. "I know ye will, love. Now...would it be too untoward if I asked ye out for tomorrow night?"

_Careful, Carson, I might think you're starting to like me._

"Just so long as the next time ye want to see me half-naked, ye might try asking."

Nena covered her mouth with a hand to stifle a giggle. She didn't mention that she'd seen more than enough in the shower surveillance systems (why the Ancients even installed such a sneaky system was suspect itself), although...maybe another time. She crossed her arms and grinned. _Anything you'd like to ask me?_

"Just how did Lieutenant Ford hit his head?"

_I believe he and Major Sheppard tired of having nothing to do and were attempting to reconstruct something called a 'Hail Mary'. What is that?_

Carson shuddered. "Ye and I need to have a serious talk about the real football..."


	4. Slumber

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate. Or, erm, Wikipedia.

AN: I'm not evil. :D

* * *

If the first inhabitants of Atlantis had assigned members to chiropractic practices, they would have instilled some law against sleeping in a chair for six or seven nights of a week. As it was, none of them bothered to give much thought to this, as for much of the time they were either shooting lasers at anything that looked vaguely like a Wraith, or attempting to enter a higher plane of existence. Meditation did require certain comforts, but mind over matter. Floor, bed, control room console – all the same in the cosmic destiny of the simple grasshopper. Breathe in, breathe out. And then ascend. Or at least look very calm for a few minutes.

Carson Beckett could do calm. He could do calm very, very well. Or so he reckoned. Waking up once again in the secondary chair of Atlantis, he stretched his arms out over his head and breathed deeply. His eyes cracked open against the persistent bright light filling the room (ew), his nostrils flared against the vague scent of rotted sea water (double ew) and his neck pinged uncomfortably.

Something else nagged along his frontal lobe momentarily, but Carson shrugged it off. He managed a smile that only looked slightly like a grimace. "Morning, Nena."

Her hologrammatic image swam into view. _You snore._

"Did I keep ye up?" Carson asked dryly.

_I'm always awake. It's very boring when everyone falls asleep. Then I have nothing interesting to spy on._

"Ye might try watching Rodney. He doesn't sleep much."

_That's what he wants everyone to think!_

Chuckling at this, the CMO leaned forward onto his knees and took a few deep breaths. His neck ached fiercely. Calm, calm, nothing to be concerned about. He glanced at his watch. Carson hurtled to his feet, exclaiming, "Why didn't ye wake me earlier? I was supposed ta be at the infirmary two hours ago!"

He rested a hand on one arm of the chair to hear her response. _You are adorable when you sleep._

Carson hopped from one foot to another. "Typical. Just typical."

_Are you mad?_

"Just my neck," Carson grumbled, offering a quick kiss to the headrest.

The chair hummed happily as the hologram disintegrated. Rolling his eyes, Carson became nothing but a blur as he sprinted away.

* * *

"Calm, calm," Carson repeated to himself as he approached his office.

Maybe no one would notice. If he kept his centre of calm, no one would accost him. He was invisible. See the wall, be the wall. Carson tripped over his own shoes and went sprawling across the entrance to his office. Picking himself up, he glanced nervously over his shoulder. Crap! Dr Biro approaching six o'clock!

"_There_ you are!" she exclaimed, lab coat flying out behind her like a cape.

Sprung! Carson coughed and patted his hands over the wrinkles in his shirt. "What can I do for ye, Dr Biro?"

"One, try answering your radio. Two, I do no appreciate working the graveyard shift only for you to turn up late. Three – "

"I think I get the picture, lass," Carson said apologetically, "And I'm very sorry to have kept ye waiting. I, ah, must have miscalculated my natural state of bodily rest."

Dr Biro's anger dissipated immediately. She beamed. "Well, why didn't you just say so? I've overslept before! It's perfectly normal. I know this great way to wake up on time, took me a decade to get it just right – "

Ooookay, that was a wee bit sudden. Carson viewed her suspiciously. He had personally selected her for her wonderful qualifications and field experience, but nowhere on her file had there been any mention of "a slightly off-kilter cross-eyed expression, also prone to babbling". He tilted his head to the side. Her eyes failed to track the movement. Creepy.

"How much coffee have ye had to drink?" he asked, concerned.

"None at all! All I had was some of those apple-fruit-things that Teyla's people started bringing back through the gate. They're _fabulous_, absolutely delicious and totally sexy too."

Carson hoped his fear wasn't showing. He nodded slowly and plastered a smile on his face. If he didn't know any better…no, that wasn't possible. But then Dr Biro was rummaging around in her pockets to bring out a piece of the maroon coloured fruit, waving it front of him. She winked suggestively at him. This was going beyond creepy into RUN RUN RUN FOR YOUR LIFE territory.

"Get some sleep, please," Carson urged, side-stepping her, "I won't be late again."

Especially if she was going to act like this! Dr Biro didn't seem at all put off. She nodded. "You're so kind, you know that don't you? I'll just go get some shut-eye and maybe we can hook up later!"

"Erm, lovely. I'll see ye later."

Much later, he hoped. She flounced towards the door. Carson held his breath. Don't turn, don't turn. Damn it. She turned around.

"Oh, by the way, in case you haven't heard, you weren't the only one to go missing this morning," she declared cheerfully, "They haven't found McKay yet either. Not that that's a bad thing."

Carson's head snapped up from where it was close to disappearing with shame into his chest. "WHAT?"

"Just saying. See you later, Carsie-buns!"

Briskly, Carson grabbed his coffee mug and threw it out the window, along with good sense and all attempts at maintaining calm. He tapped his headset and quickly scourged the details off Dr Weir, who sounded equally as unsettled.

"It's not like Rodney to skip any briefing, especially his first one as part of the team," Elizabeth confided, "Unless he has something more interesting to do in his lab, I mean – and he's not even there. We've looked. Major Sheppard is combing the city right now, so I'll let you know if we need your assistance."

"Keep me posted. Beckett out."

Carson had not intention of sitting by and waiting for bad news. He rested his palm on the wall and asked quietly, "Nena, can ye look for Rodney, please?"

What sounded suspiciously like a raspberry squealed out of the nearest x-ray machine.

"No, love," Carson sighed, "Dr Biro was not my fault, I swear to ye. If yer not too busy trying to fry her, could ye consider trying to find Rodney? Anything could have happened to him."

The machine cooed back at him. Taking this as a good sign, Carson began hunting for his medical kit. He made sure to give the wall a gentle caress as thanks. He consulted the console beside one of the beds and noted that Nena had called up a map of the city, indicating the South Pier. Humming thoughtfully, Carson waved over a doctor.

"Hold down the fort," he instructed.

"But you just got here!"

A neck muscle twinged. Carson growled, "Don't mess with me, lad!"

Unused to this sort of response from the usually placid CMO, the doctor nodded and back-pedalled several metres away. Carson stormed out of the infirmary, shouldering his kit over his jacket. By now, his back had started aching. Wonderful. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in one of the windows along the corridor outside and started. Hair sticking up all over the place, and face something hellish, he looked downright monstrous.

"I need to start sleeping in my bed again," he realised.

Rubbing his chin, he noticed that there was more friction than he remembered. When was the last time he shaved? Good Lord, he couldn't remember. All this had started when he'd began spending more time with Nena…now he was barely groomed, turning up late to shifts and shouting at those under his command. Not good. Not good at all.

He should have known this would happen. Just like the last time he'd been besotted with some bonnie lass, he'd ended up taking far too much time off his medical degree. This time was more serious, however. What if there was some medical emergency that he failed to help out with? This would have to be dealt with.

But later. Right now, he had a scientist to find.

* * *

There is something to be said of a man who wakes up on a balcony in the middle of nowhere, and manages not to scream. Rodney McKay was not such a man. After the first few futile seconds of hanging his head over the edge and having a roaring contest with the ocean, the head of the science department managed to regain control of his senses.

Grabbing hold of the railing, Rodney hoisted himself up and glanced around. Door. He needed a door to get inside. The magically non-existent door.

"Who makes a balcony without a door?" he muttered, "Ten points for looking shiny. Minus a few thousand points for functional design."

There had to be a logical explanation for this. Maybe he'd pressed some sort of button that transported him to this spot. Right, yes. A button. He paused. What button? Where was this button? Where had he been? God. He'd been in his lab, although that was hazy. Something about running out of coffee and finding a small stash in Zelenka's lab.

Alright, that made more sense. Something in Zelenka's lab that malfunctioned or wasn't put away properly – so that was the patsy taken care of.

Now what?

Rodney tapped his ear, but found no headset. That was more than somewhat worrying. His breath started coming in short gasps. He tugged at his arms and found no jacket. He was going to freeze to death! He couldn't stand the cold – he just couldn't! Ever since that time when he'd fallen over during a game of ice hockey…

He started shivering violently. Why did the city have to be so cold all the time? First it was that strange incident when the city locked down, now this! And no one would be within earshot to hear his insightful last words. The last secrets of the universe would die with him!

"One giant leap backwards for mankind," Rodney decided.

Well, that settled it. He would have to find some way to be rescued. Or…he fumbled stiff fingers over a panel in the wall. Tugging as much as his arms could allow, Rodney managed to pry it open. Instead of the crystals he had been expecting, all he found was clear tubing. Momentarily stumped, he began feeling around inside the panel until something sharp scraped sensation back into his fingers. He pulled it out with a vicious snap.

Alright. Now he had a blackened shard of something that might have been a crystal ten thousands years ago. Helpful.

Rodney held up the crystal in front of his face, frowning. He tapped it against the wall a few times. He even tried smacking the wall. By this point, panic was beginning to bubble up his throat. Rodney shook the crystal and then shrieked at it.

All in all, this was progress.

* * *

Tapping his fingers over the console, Carson waited. Static whizzed before his eyes and the screen started groaning and smoking. This went on for some minutes and he grew concerned. He pressed a few keys and commanded a digital read out of the section of the city he had been led to. At last, something faint began to shadow across the screen. But instead of the map, it was words.

_Carson. Systems dead. _

"Why is that?"

_You…stay underwater for ten millennia…then I will ask you…_

"Don't wear yerself out," Carson cautioned, "I think I can take it from here."

_Be careful._

"That goes for ye as well, my dear."

At least he knew where to focus his attention in searching. The area Nena had indicated to him earlier included only four or five possible locations – black spots on her systems, perpetually broken due to insufficient repairs. Number one on his list was a disused laboratory that Nena had been hesitant to explain as having something to do with whales. While it was meant to be sealed shut, Rodney might have found a way to open it.

Carson jogged down the corridor, wincing as his medical pack slammed against his sore back with each step. The image of a sweet, blessed mattress rose to mind. Blinking back into focus, he forced himself to ignore his discomfit. He rounded a bend and skidded to a stop. The door was almost invisible, with a hairline crack revealing the only abnormality. He ran a finger down the side and it came away rusty.

Obviously not then. Okay. Number two – observatory.

The blueprints available to him had been somewhat sketchy for the observatory, but the existence of the room piqued his interest itself. What need would the Ancients have had for stargazing? Carson shook his head to clear distracting thoughts and clambered up a flight of stairs, two or three at a time.

The staircase opened up into a platform, surrounded by the rounded walls of the observatory. Smooth dirty teal floors admitted him over to the middle of the room, where a device clearly like a telescope drooped. Carson rested a hand on it thoughtfully. He glanced closer and saw the imprint of another hand in the dust. Jerking his hand back in surprise, he examined it more closely. There was no way to tell who had disturbed the dust, but there had not been a single person cleared to venture down there. Either it was someone who had scouted too far or…

A thud echoed throughout the room and Carson turned around. There was nothing to be seen but walls that ran into each other seamlessly and eternally. Not even a window. But there was that sound again, like someone was beating a blunt object against the side.

"Rodney…" he mused out loud and walked over to where the sound originated.

How on Earth had Rodney managed to get himself on the other side of the wall? Perplexed, Carson ran his hands over the wall, closing his eyes to concentrate. Something caught onto his left palm and gouged mercilessly. He opened his eyes abruptly and looked down to it. Barely visible was a tiny button, a slightly darker shade than the rest of the wall. Carson shrugged and tugged at it.

Clanging and humming reverberated throughout the soles of his feet, forcing him back a few paces. Then the wall began to circulate the room, twisting and warping with a high pitched scraping noise. Finally, the walls slid down into a rim around the edge, revealing a walkway extending the platform outside the room. At this point, Rodney McKay tumbled in to land at his feet.

Carson peered down at him. "Are ye alright, lad?"

"Do I look alright to you?" Rodney exclaimed, "I must have a progressed form of hypothermia – you have no idea how long I've been out there – and every single bone in my hands ache. Oh my God, maybe I have frostbite. I can't have frostbite! I need my hands, Carson!"

Kneeling down beside him, Carson pulled out his friend's hands and looked at them carefully. Certainly, the digits were that shade of blue from exposure, but seemed otherwise fine. He smiled at his patient. "A good warm bath and ye'll be good as new. I would also advise some cream for your sunburn."

Rodney's expression was aghast. "I'm sunburnt?! Oh great, now I probably have cancer. What took you so long finding me?"

"A little sun might have done ye some good," Carson placated, "Ye spend so long in that lab that yer may as well be a vampire. And ye should get used to it, now that yer on Major Sheppard's team."

This did nothing at all to soothe the frown settling in on Rodney's pink face. Sighing, Carson reached for that inner calm he had managed to lose so early in the day. Calm, calm, calm. Deep breaths. Finally, he shrugged off his medical kit so that he could remove his jacket and wrap it around Rodney's shoulders. The scientist poked disapprovingly at the yellow patches signifying the medical department.

"Now let's get ye to the infirmary, hmm?" Carson suggested, helping him stand.

"That still doesn't explain how I ended up outside."

Carson looked around. "Well, isn't it obvious, lad? It's an observatory. Ye must have opened the roof for the telescope and then ended up trapped outside."

"Do you seriously think I would come to a place like this in the middle of the night?"

"With you, Rodney, anything is possible."

* * *

There was some surprise and suspicion among the military personnel of Atlantis when they discovered that they had been outclassed by a mere doctor in the standard search and rescue procedure. They were not the only ones to walk away from the whole thing with some contention.

"I was _not_ sleepwalking!" Rodney protested, "It is entirely possible that I may have been transported from Zelenka's lab all the way over to the South Pier. I would not have gone to sleep on the cusp of a new technological discovery."

Carson hid a smile behind his coffee mug. "Any childhood experiences of sleepwalking?"

"No! You can stop smirking at me, because I would remember doing something as asinine as sleepwalking."

Cursing the dimples that always gave him away, Carson lowered his mug and exchanged an openly amused look with Elizabeth Weir, who was standing off to the side. She had come down to check up on Rodney, and instead ended up attempting to make Rodney realise that he, in fact, had been sleepwalking. Zelenka had witnessed him walking out of his lab with his eyes closed.

When asked why he hadn't stopped Rodney, the Czech had mysteriously vanished for several hours. Carson had an idea which ventilation shaft he was hiding out in.

"So, Atlantis has an observatory," mused Elizabeth, "Do you suppose they would have used such a device for the simple pleasure of stargazing?"

Carson shrugged. "Who knows? We understand very little about their day to day practices. Even in the infirmary, we barely understand their technology, let alone how they might have used it in their daily lives."

He cast a glance up to the ceiling. For all his secret contact with Nena, he still had no idea about what sort of people the Ancients were, except for some ominous retellings of how they could wipe out entire computer programs that proved useless or disruptive.

Rodney still glowered around at anyone in the infirmary, though he desisted after Elizabeth suggested he sit out the next few missions. He exclaimed indignantly, "Come on, it's just sleepwalking! It's not like I'm psychologically disturbed or anything."

"Sometimes I wonder," Carson said quietly to this.

Elizabeth quickly turned away to conceal her laughter. "Alright, Rodney. We've rescheduled the briefing for tomorrow morning. You might try getting some rest before then."

The scientist sat up quickly, tugging uncomfortably at the borrowed jacket he still wore. Glancing down at it, and remembering that he was now sporting the colours of the opposition, Rodney tore it off and threw it over to Carson, who collected it gracefully. Rodney demanded, "Can I go now? You don't need to strap me down overnight, do you?"

"Of course not," Carson assured, "Jus' make sure ye sleep in yer bed tonight. I think that might stop this from happening."

Rodney grumbled, offered a petulant nod and scuttled off towards his lab. Watching him go, the CMO finally let loose a chuckle and scratched at his chin thoughtfully. The jungle of whiskers that met his fingernail was a certain reminder for him as well. So first of all, he had to shave, apologise to some poor doctor and get a good night's sleep in his own bed. That appealed tremendously.

And then he could possibly wake up half-human.

* * *

Waking to the gentle ocean breeze, Carson smiled and rolled his shoulders comfortably against the stack of pillows beneath his head. Bliss. Not a single ache. The scent tugging at his nose this morning was a delightful mix of the ocean and the leftover aroma of the cold coffee sitting on his bedside table. He stretched his arms out to the side, up over his head and back down to his sides.

"Perfect," he sighed.

But there was one thing missing, of course. Waking up to Nena's voice was something he had become horribly attached to. Somehow he didn't think that in any relationship self-help books that there would be any discussion on how best to accommodate a relationship with a chair without needing years of chiropractic therapy. Relationship. That still sounded a wee bit strange, even to him. It hadn't been that long, but already he felt like he'd known her for eons.

The spray of his shower alerted him to the fact that he was not alone, not really. Carson rolled out of bed and walked over to his laptop. A message was already waiting for him.

_Miss you._

"Me too. I'm sorry, love, but if I don't at least get some decent sleep during the week, I'll go more than little daft."

_I guess I can live with that._

"Ye guess?"

_As long as you wear those shorts of yours when you come to see me._

Carson felt his cheeks warm up. He patted his cool hands against his face in an attempt to hide the blush. Damn it, how did she do this to him? He frowned suspiciously towards his bathroom. It hadn't been his imagination when she'd said the other day that she could see everything that everyone did in the city. Something about the playful tone of her voice at the time kept coming back to haunt him.

He cleared his throat. "Ye didn't do anything too damaging to Dr Biro, did ye?"

_Who, me?_

"I know what yer like, my dear."

_Oh fine. I'll let her out of her wardrobe._

"That would be most appreciated."

_Carson – I need to tell you something._

Imagining another joke regarding shorts or showers coming his way, Carson began stuttering some sort of excuse about needing to run off to in the infirmary. Or perhaps subconsciously he knew what was really on her mind. He coughed and tried again with his excuses. But obviously she wasn't going to buy anything he said. She knew him too well.

"I'm listening."

_I think of you as exclusively mine. So you can understand why I react with jealousy when a woman who you can physically see expresses interest in you._

"I thought I told ye, I don't care if I can't see ye. I don't even mind if ye don't use the hologram."

_I appreciate that. I adore that. But…_

Here was the zinger. Carson swallowed nervously. "But what?"

_But I need to know how you really feel about me._

Many human males, when faced with the feelings ultimatum, can almost see the cage closing in around their helpless selves. In Carson Beckett's case, he had no doubt that the city of Atlantis could literally drop a cage around him until he relented.

"Oh crap…"

He'd just said that out loud. Double crap.

_I understand that this is hard for you. Yet we have spent so much time together. Perhaps you are aware of how I have felt since the week I met you. If not, I will tell you._

"Erm, perhaps later?" Carson's voice cracked.

Human males have but one weapon in their arsenal. That of denial. But Atlantis had encountered this sort of problem with the original inhabitants of its walls, and nothing had changed among observations of the Earthling descendants. Thusly armed with this knowledge, and knowing that he wouldn't dare look away from his laptop right now, Nena ploughed on.

_I love you._

His knees gave out. Carson collapsed into his desk chair and buried his face in his hands. How could any of this possibly work? It had been fine before, dating her casually, spending many a spare moment with her. But this called for too much thought, too much commitment. The obvious physical thoughts came to mind, although it was at least possible for her to be attracted to him. She'd shown that often enough.

_Carson?_

"I'm thinking. I just woke up, ye know."

Buying more time. A classic delaying tactic used over many galaxies and many races. Shifting awkwardly in his chair, Carson wrung his hands under his desk, hopefully where she wouldn't be able to see. Right at that moment, he was reminded of the last time he'd lapsed into denial, mostly due to how his ankle still twinged a little if he moved it into certain angles. God, this was too soon. It had to be too soon.

Carson stood up and ran for his life. He kept running until he was in the blackout zone of the observatory, where she would never be able to hear him. After slapping the open button on the walls and ceiling, he spread his arms and shouted out to the ocean, "I love Nena! I love her! I love her!"

His chest felt much lighter in that moment and he stared helplessly up at the sky. It was a lot easier saying it here. No one to hear. No one to judge. No one to dissuade. Because he'd never felt this way about any lass before. He just couldn't articulate it when she was around.

"Damn it!" Carson added to this, slamming his fist into the telescope.

The device was strong enough to resist the pressure, driving back pain into his knuckles. This seemed to push some sense back into him, but that didn't erase the fact that the moment he stepped back into her functioning sensors, Nena would demand a response. Failing that, the city could end up in another ice age. Although, she had promised…

Grey clouds gave way to a drizzle that coated his face in beads of water. Carson stood there, unmoving, greeting the rain. He considered staying there forever, but naturally this thought didn't go very far, especially since he could really have used a whole case of beer right then. And the only stash he knew about was under the desk in his office.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

Carson wiped his wet cheeks with his sleeve, and realised it had stopped sprinkling from the heavens. He wiped at his eyes instead. God, this shouldn't be so hard.

He took a deep breath and stepped back inside.

* * *

TBC…


	5. Total Recall

Disclaimer: I do not own _Stargate_. I do not own _Red Dwarf_ or potato kings.

AN: Um, I decided to up the rating. Just in case. :D There probably will be one more chapter after this.

I'm also very...shy about this chapter.

* * *

The persistent throbbing of a hangover is a common occurrence is many galaxies, though it is at its peak of popular culture within the Milky Way Galaxy, especially in the world of Earthlings. Hangovers rouse the unsuspecting victim from the blissful black of unconsciousness, plonking them rudely back into their predicament. The problem in this situation was that Dr Carson Beckett couldn't remember what that particular predicament was. Not even an inkling.

Cautiously, he opened his eyes and found the ceiling of his quarters twinkling merrily with the lights of Atlantis. Apart from that, he was encased in a darkness just like his dreams, though there something more sinister at work here. Something felt different. Lying there with his hands travelling out to locate the sheets, Carson tried to pinpoint exactly what felt out of place.

His skin tingled strangely and his chest squeezed painfully a few times. The lights on the ceiling danced and swam in his vision, so he squeezed his eyes shut again. What on Earth was wrong with him? It was just another bloody hangover. He'd had plenty of them over the years, but nothing this painful. Carson managed to peel back his eyelids and sat up in bed. He immediately regretted it and had to hold back a tidal wave of vomit.

"Good Lord…" he gasped, "What…what am I missing here?"

The lamp beside his bed pinged on abruptly. Carson shielded his face, then peeked between his fingers as the light dimmed as though on command. Slightly unusual, perhaps, but not entirely unheard of. After a few harried thoughts directed its way, the lamp winked out dutifully. He stumbled across the floor into his bathroom, almost falling across the mirror.

Nothing looked out of place. Except for the fact that he was wearing those blasted shorts again.

The mirror wobbled. As he watched it, the mirror seemed to grow bigger until it focused onto a blow-up version of his face. Hmm, interesting. A mirror that zooms in. Slightly odd, but he could deal with that. Carson blinked. His reflection was suddenly the same as always.

"I am throwing these shorts out!" he exclaimed.

Something very strange was happening to Dr Beckett. But he chose to ignore it and get dressed. He never did enjoy mysteries, especially if certain older brothers ripped out the last pages to his detective novels.

* * *

Carson sat. And he contemplated.

A tray covered with an assortment of food landed heavily next to his elbows. Glancing over the array of pasta and a few suspicious looking globs, Carson found his stomach heaving once again. He bent over the table and groaned. Slurping noises followed the scents of dinner, enough to make bile slip up from his throat. Finally, he could take it no longer. He sat up and spitted Rodney McKay with the best glare he could manage.

"What?" Rodney asked around a mouthful of food, "Just because they don't have any haggis, you want everyone else to go on a hunger strike?"

Carson rubbed his temples wearily. "No, not at all, Rodney. Have ye ever woken up knowing ye might have done something…peculiar?"

Rodney seemed to actually consider this. He shrugged and shovelled down a spoonful of pasta. Obviously food was a little more stimulating than hypothetical thoughts. Another tray slapped down on the table, followed by the easy grin of John Sheppard. "I sure have. This one time I woke up in Canada in the back of some truck handcuffed to a pole dancer from…"

"You wish!" Rodney snorted, "And then the king of the potato people gave you a magic flying carpet. Honestly, the playboy act gets a little old after a while."

"Must be losing my touch if it took this long, McKay."

Carson cleared his throat. "Gentlemen, please."

"You're just jealous because I have better stories," John shot smugly across the table at his team member.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "I assure you, Major, I have plenty of interesting stories."

"Tell us one then!"

"I woke up in college," Rodney began briskly, "With a test tube stuck to my forehead."

John burst out laughing and slammed a fist against the table. A glob of mashed potato landed with a sickening smack onto the back of Carson's hand. The CMO sighed. "Just lovely."

"So what about you, doc?" John rounded on him.

Carson hesitated. "I'll let ye know when I find out."

A look of intense interest came over Sheppard's face. He silently sipped on his apple juice for a few moments, eyeing up the doctor with a look usually reserved for advancing upon Wraith or newbies of the marine corps. Then a light shone in his eyes.

"Another hot date!" he enthused.

Carson's cheeks paled. Now that he thought about it, the last thing he remembered was standing at the observatory, trying to decide whether or not to run in and profess his mutual love for Nena. Did this mean he hadn't, and she'd tried to give him amnesia? Or had he managed to screw up the courage, only to douse his woes in alcohol afterwards?

"I don't know," Carson admitted, "What day is it?"

John looked suitably impressed. "That must have been some date."

This was not at all helpful. Carson stared helplessly at him until the Major relented and told him. Several long seconds of stunned silence follow this. He'd lost a bloody _week_. Anything could have happened in that time. Medical emergencies, major squabbles between departments…or vengeful cities throwing a tantrum and sinking Atlantis just to spite him. Carson picked over his chin thoughtfully, realising that if he had been gone for a week, he'd certainly have the trappings of a wild beard by now.

This time he tried to sound complacent. "Did I miss poker night?"

"Uh, no you were there for that," John supplied, narrowing his eyes suspiciously, "Why, did I hallucinate that, doc?"

Rodney sniggered into his pasta, took an almighty swallow and looked up. "No, I think you hallucinated that there was a poker night. You can't hold something like that without me knowing."

"Uh, yes, McKay we can. And we did. And Carson was there."

Carson was by now thoroughly alarmed, though it might have been because Rodney's face turned an ugly shade of purple and started choking, and not the fact that the poker night had been a couple of days ago, in the week long hole in his memory. Choosing to err on the side of normality, he reached across and asked in concern, "Are ye alright, Rodney?"

"Traitor!" wheezed Rodney.

"I'm sorry, I don't even remember going!" Carson said feebly, "If I did remember, I would never exclude ye, lad. Not unwillingly."

He shot John a pleading glance. Catching the hint, the Major coughed loudly. "Well, you were kind of out of it, Beckett. I could have tied you down to the Lantean chair and you would have smiled and nodded."

Chair. _Chair_. Oh crap, this was so her doing.

Carson stood up abruptly, heart hammering against his ribcage. He managed a mumbled apology before turning and running away to the secondary chair room. After watching him for a few moments, John turned back to his food and commented airily, "Tell you what, McKay. If you think you can handle a high stakes poker game of chocolate and coffee without passing out from manly hunger, you're in the next one."

"How can I possibly refuse such an inviting offer?" Rodney groused.

"Don't know. Maybe you should ask the king of the potato people."

John Sheppard reflected that he probably deserved the piece of pasta that smacked into his forehead and started sliding down his nose.

* * *

Fact one: Atlantis was still floating merrily away on the surface of the water.

Fact two: no sliding doors had tried to separate any limbs from his body.

Fact three: he had no bloody clue where the last week went.

Fact four: his last memory involved trying to decide whether or not to tell Nena he loved her.

Carson mused over this as he jogged down the corridor towards the secondary chair room, ignoring the dark stains that splashed up onto his pants. He did take a little notice as something slimy splashed onto his cheek, cursing as he swatted at it, only to realise it was a glob of mashed potato. Still, that was ew. Arriving at the domed room, he felt panic rise up his throat just like bile and spent perhaps two minutes pacing in front of the door, mystified and worried by turn.

He jumped nervously when the door slid open in front of him. Taking the hint, Carson stole into the room, taking his own sweet time in making it over to the chair room. The chair glowed a warm blue, pulsing in wait. Nothing threatening, but you never knew when your psycho girlfriend would activate some magnetic shield to lock you in place. Not that Carson had ever experienced this, but he imagined that it was possible – that and some other unpleasant things. But he would never figure out the last page of this mystery by being a coward.

So he sat in the chair.

_Did you miss me? _Nena purred immediately.

Calm, cool, collected. He decided to try using the truth, and nodded vaguely. "Aye, of course I missed ye."

_I know you did, you naughty boy._

Um. That was new.

"Er, yes. Nena, just how long has it been since I was here?"

Her hologram buzzed into view, and she tapped her chin in a thoughtful way that looked vert cute, Carson had to admit. The smile lit up her features. _Eleven hours, twenty-one minutes and fifty seconds. No, fifty-one. Fifty-two…_

Carson couldn't help it. He smiled back at her. "Doesn't sound like ye missed me much, does it?"

Nena laughed and hovered into his lap, looking terribly at ease with herself. Her hand patted the air over his head for a second or two, before she linked her hands together and beamed beatifically at him. Then she cleared her throat. _Aren't you forgetting something?_

Excellent. She'd just given him another opening to his interrogation.

"Oh," Carson said casually, "I guess I could be forgetting…that I love ye to the point of being absolutely daft."

He held his breath. Her expression didn't alter in the slightest. Nena winked at him. _Good, glad to see you aren't forgetting the important things. And have I told you, Carson Beckett, how much I adore and love you?_

"I've lost count how many times ye've said that…" he muttered, feeling uneasy.

From this, he assumed that he had managed to spill his feelings for her at some point. Unfortunately, instead of making things any clearer, his brain started throbbing with more confusion. Carson stabbed at his eyes with the heel of his palms, rubbing briskly before blinking away the haze of uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm him. Considering his unsettled stomach, he dropped his hand and rubbed there sympathetically.

_So…how much did you miss me?_

"Words cannot describe how much, my bonnie lass."

_I loooove it when you say that._

It was thus reasonable to conclude that they had already sped into the stage of pet names. The chair started humming loudly beneath him and her hologram winked out. Uh oh. Carson experimentally lifted a hand. Good, no random force field holding him down. That was some improvement on the situation. Much as he deduced that he loved Nena, there was something very vital missing from the puzzle. And it seemed that answer was about as a far away as Earth and…

Good Lord! Carson sat up straight, eyes wide. He had not been expecting _that_. The tingles of pleasure building up in his navel and taking a very embarrassing route southwards were certainly nothing he could remember ever happening in the chair before.

Carson leaped out of the chair and rolled as he hit the ground. Scrambling away, he smacked abruptly into the wall and slid down to his knees. He began chanting under his breath, "Oh crap. Oh crap. Chocolate, chocolate! Oh crap."

This was…somewhat awkward. Unless he had been mistaken, although he had to admit being mistaken in another galaxy was something that happened all the time, Nena had been…had been…Carson covered his face with his hands. He didn't want his mind to even _wander_ in that general direction. Because that would mean that sometime during the week, they had…they had…

"Oh my God," he said out loud, "_Oh my God_. Did ye…did we…"

He made a vague sort of gesture with his hands. Realising she couldn't answer him, Carson skirted over and pressed just one finger to the headrest of the chair. Her voice had lost much of the playfulness that had started off their meeting.

_Did we what?_

"Ye know…" He gestured again.

_Enlighten me._

Carson coughed and rushed out, "Love…didwesleeptogether?"

There was an ominous pause.

_What's wrong with you? Of course we did._

"Oh God!" he exclaimed to this.

_Carson…_ she sounded hurt, _What's wrong? Why are you acting this way?_

"I-I don't remember anything from the past week!"

_You're lying._

"I'm not, I swear to ye!" Carson said, panicked, "I jus' woke up barely an hour ago and the last thing I remember was just after ye told me ye loved me…"

_You don't…remember anything after that?_

"No! I'm sorry, I just don't."

_Then you don't remember…that we shared?_

"Shared what?"

Her tone became angry. _Shared! Meaning we shared each other, shared our souls. We knew each other as well as anybody could._

A flash of insight occurred to Carson at that point. He had heard somewhere at Stargate Command about this but…

_And,_ Nena continued fiercely, _Among the Ancients, when mental bonding occurred simultaneously with a physical connection between two people, those people would be understood as living together for the rest of their lives._

"We're…married?" Carson managed, dazed.

_I think that is what you called it._

This was probably why people should be a little more cautious when it came to courting in the Pegasus Galaxy, Carson reflected. He considered walking off in frustration, but he couldn't leave Nena like that. Not if she was his wife. Sighing, Carson sat back down in the chair and trailed his fingers up on of the arms to comfort her. He spoke softly, "I'm so sorry I don't remember. I do know that I love ye, but this happened so fast, it seems…"

_Before they ascended, the Ancients never held much regard for waiting. _

"I guess if yer trying to fight off the Wraith at every moment, ye don't have much time."

_This makes me…very upset._

"I'm sorry, love."

_I don't think it's your fault. Your body must not have been able to handle it._

Carson heard the dejection fading in her voice, but he still felt terrible. He asked hesitantly, "How many times have we…"

_Made love?_

"Aye."

_A few_…a smile tinged her words.

Thoughts and images toppled over each other in Carson's head, but never stayed still long enough for him to single out one to understand its meaning. Annoyed, he leaned back to smack his head on the chair, though that didn't seem to do much to help. Only made his headache more fierce. Carson frowned. "Do ye think if we shared again, I might remember?"

_I don't see how._

"Failing that, I'd like to at least remember sharing with ye this time."

_You don't mean that._

"Of course I bloody do!" Carson burst out, "God, Nena, it's not jus' because I feel terrible – and I do – it's because I know I love ye, and I deserve to know ye in the way that ye know me."

_Alright,_ she said grudgingly, _But you better remember this time._

"Trust me, my dear."

Closing his eyes, Carson waited anxiously for a few moments before bright light exploded behind his eyelids. A wave of warmth settled over him, and at first he thought maybe his fears had been for nothing. And then he found himself forcing his eyes open to an expanse of stars spread out before him, beautiful in an array of twinkling light, so close he could reach out and touch any planet or star that he wanted to.

God, it was magnificent, and she had witnessed so much of the universe. But the silence of space began to press against his temples, harder as the seconds passed. She was so _alone_. The cheerful lights of the stars melted away into an abyss of murky blue and green, and now the silence gave way to the swishing of the sea. Still so _alone…_until he came.

He knew this. He'd seen it before. Reaching out a hand, Carson batted away the impressions that were so familiar to him, and started as the rush of memory slammed into his skull…

* * *

**Approximately one week earlier…**

* * *

Denial is a very easy weapon to master, though perhaps most ably assisted by the steady consumption of alcohol. While many may actually deny that they are, in fact, in the state denial, there are some who might take solace in pretending to be in denial. This latter explanation probably made more sense to Carson Beckett as he sat under the desk in his office, nervously swigging at the several bottles of beer he'd managed to smuggle into his third drawer (never the top drawer – that's exactly where the guys from his poker group would first look).

He jerked and hit the top of his head on his desk when the coffee machine started hissing and spitting from the opposite side of the room. While the smell was awfully tempting, the machine sounded practically murderous. Carson pulled his knees up to his chin and swirled the contents of the bottle in his hand. The machine growled.

"I need _time_…" he muttered, "Please go away, lass."

Then he added a sneeze for good measure. Shaking out the water that had nestled in his hair from standing outside in the rain, Carson contemplated the empty bottles circling him already. Damn it. He'd run out, and he didn't even feel vaguely tipsy yet. Or maybe he already was, because now thoughts of emerging from his little cocoon seemed perfectly sane. Damn damn. He weighed up his options. He really needed some more alcohol, but that would mean staging a daring mission out into his office. On the other hand, he should probably just get it over and done with. What harm could it do, telling her what he'd only just figured out?

Time being the operative word. But then again, entities might get a little impatient after a few thousand years.

But as usual, the need for a little more denial drove him out from hiding. Scuttling on his hands and knees towards the door, Carson bounced off a pair of legs in a lab coat. He coughed and looked up at the intruder – and groaned loudly. Dr Biro peered down at him, looking a little worse for wear. Although, if he'd been stuck in a wardrobe for hours, Carson supposed he might look a wee bit like that.

"Aww, got you on your knees," Dr Biro giggled.

Carson's wide horrified eyes beseeched her. "Uh, I'm sorry but I've got ta get out of the infirmary."

"You're on duty."

"It's life or death!" Carson whispered loudly.

"And you've been drinking, haven't you?" Dr Biro said sternly after sniffing the air. "Well that won't do, will it? And you're hiding in here from me, you naughty boy."

Oh that was so wrong. Carson scrambled up to his feet and pushed past her, sprinting for the door. It took him a moment or two to realise he was flat on his back, legs sticking up in the air and several metres away from the door still. He rubbed at the back of his head distractedly and cursed. Peering at his shoe, he found traces of something maroon and very slimy. Sitting up, he threw a furious glance over at Dr Biro. He cleared his throat noisily.

"Look, I've not been feeling too well, Dr Biro. I would appreciate if ye left me alone. And just so ye know, I am spoken for!"

"You send more mixed signals than Windows XP," Biro snapped, "And after all I've had to put up with – you sneaking off when you think no one's watching, coming in late…and to turn up in shorts!"

Carson couldn't believe this. "Is _that_ what's this about? The shorts?"

"You bet it is!"

Well this was getting rapidly out of hand, judging especially by the interested expression crossing the face of Dr Kavanaugh four beds over, even though he was supposed to be asleep. Carson noted this awkwardly, thinking of the gossip that would racing around the mess hall at lunch. He straightened up and spitted Dr Biro with his best professional-but-also-evil glare.

"For yer information," Carson stated firmly, "I was wearing those shorts for my lass."

Then he tore off as fast as he could manage, though he suspected he may have heard some snickering care of slumbering Kavanaugh.

* * *

Nena preened. She knew she should have been angry and frustrated, but hearing him declare openly for all to hear – well, in the infirmary anyway – that he was spoken for…that was enough to get him off the hook. For now. With interest, she tracked his movement as he paced along a corridor in the main Atlantis spire for several minutes, before racing away when it seemed that he was about to be confronted by some members from the science department.

While she had no idea what he had been doing at the observatory earlier, it intrigued her beyond any fury or upset. So she waited until he'd stopped running around like some Wraith with their head cut off before shining some lights to guide him in the right direction. Grumbling and weaving unsteadily on his feet, Carson followed without too many loud protests until he was right where she wanted him.

Snoozing upside down in the chair might not have been exactly what Nena wanted, but it was close enough. She zapped some static electricity over the surface of the chair until Carson yelped and put himself to rights. His eyes shot from corner to corner of the room before finally settling on the ceiling with a resigned look to his face.

"Ye certainly have yer ways," he complained, but lightly.

_You didn't have to come._

"Not like I can keep away from ye for too long, anyway."

Nena activated her hologram for the sole purpose of raising her eyebrows at him. He stared back at her, a lift to one corner of his lips. Hopeful, Nena probed, _And why do you say that?_

"I don't know if ye've noticed, but I'm crazy about ye."

That was unexpected. Unexpected but very, very good. Nena smiled and leaned over so that her translucent face was closer to his own. There. He was definitely trying to mask his own smile. Time to put his good humour to the test. She teased, _Just crazy? Don't you have something else to say, you naughty boy?_

"That's not fair…" Carson protested, "Don't start quoting her, that's creepy…"

_Well then?_

His smile appeared then, in all its dimpled glory. "Alright. I love ye, Nena."

* * *

**Present**

* * *

Coming to his senses in the chair room, Carson stared absently at the wall while he contemplated and made sense of the memories flooding him. It had happened fast, but had seemed so right at the time. He drummed his fingers on the side of one of the arms of the chair but desisted when the chair thrummed ominously underneath him.

"I remember," he said after a while.

_Are you sure?_

"Of course I'm sure! I'm glad it worked. I would never want to forget sharing with ye. I'm sorry that I did."

_No, I should be saying sorry to you. I fear our initial connection reacted badly with your form._

"Speaking of connections, my dear, how do ye feel about refreshing that part of my memory?"

Nena laughed and her image disappeared. Smiling to himself, Carson shrugged off his jacket and leaned back into the chair.


	6. Role Play

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate or a certain song.

AN: Okay, um, this was supposed to be a short epilogue thing. But it turned into…into…um. I don't know what it is. And I actually resurrected a deleted scene from chapter 3. Woohoo! Grodin love. Set after "38 Minutes".

Huge thanks to all my lovely reviewers!! And special thanks to Gilari and Seanait, without whom this story would not exist.

* * *

There is a universal theory. Just when you think you've learned all there is to know about another galaxy, and taken every new experience available to you and turned it into a daily occurrence, there will always be something to jump up and surprise you. While those that maintain this theory are few in number, owing to the lack of inter-galaxy travelling, they consist of some of the smartest minds that a bipedal humanoid species has to offer. In other words, you should at least pretend that you agree with them or risk being thrown into the biology department as a social outcast.

Carson Beckett's life followed a fairly stable routine, although he was wise enough not to delude himself into thinking he was safe from peculiarities. There were random bursts of light that squealed out of long abandoned consoles, the echoes of what sounded like laughter from Athosian children that incidentally turned out to be Dr Zelenka chuckling evilly – oh and, not to mention the fact that Carson had found himself married to a chair.

Not that this particular fact was of any consternation to him.

No, the most bothersome thing he had to worry about was how the biology department was coping with the nuisance he had sprung on them for an impromptu exchange of knowledge. Generally, on Earth, no one would dare to raise a hassle with the man in charge of holding big scary needles. But this wasn't Earth, due to one very big scary difference. And that difference was Dr Rodney McKay.

"Don't worry about McKay," Major Sheppard assured one morning as he was taking a breather from his jog outside Carson's quarters. "I'm sure he isn't likely to raise a fuss about you committing mutiny in his precious Black Hole of Calcutta."

Carson kneaded his eyebrows. "I would hardly call the biology department that…"

"Well you should, because you just sentenced Dr Biro to a slow and lingering death."

"I'm sure Rodney will put the lass out of her misery," Carson remarked, unconcerned.

John stopped jogging on the spot and stared at him, before dropping one leg into a stretch. Wincing as he pulled a little too hard on his hamstring, he abandoned the exercise and deliberately reached out to lock Carson's door. He was so used to using that trick on certain members of the expedition (he had lately taken to locking an unsuspecting Bates into transporters) that he didn't expect anything to mess with his perfected prank.

Carson absently stroked the door and it opened. John gawked.

"What's wrong, son?" Carson asked, but with a smile, "Run out of puff already?"

Never one to have his physique critiqued, John blew out his chest indignantly and shook his head. "Are you kidding? This is nothing. And since when did you get so good at using your ATA gene?"

"Maybe I just ask nicely."

"Yeah, sure," John said sceptically.

Two pairs of light feet padded around the corner, followed by two earnest grins and two very sharp sticks. Seizing on the distraction, Carson elbowed ahead of John and greeted the newcomers with a broad grin of his own, "Hullo Jinto, hullo Wex! Did ye know that Major Sheppard here has quite a story to tell ye about his latest encounter with the Wraith?"

"Really?" Jinto glanced over to his hero. "Cool!"

John started slicing his hand in front of his face in what could only be construed as a desperate "stop this OR DIE" gesture. But wearing his best innocent-but-devilish expression (possibly picked up from a certain entity's hologram), Dr Beckett half-turned to allow John into the conversation. He prompted, "Well, then? I'm sure ye'd love to regale yer brave tale to these two adoring fans of yers."

Wex nodded quickly. "Please? Please? Can we have chocolate too? Dr Beckett gave us this huge stash and it didn't last very – "

Carson coughed loudly and the boy dropped off guiltily. A tense second passed before Jinto tugged hard on his friend's sleeve. Catching the nod that Jinto made in the direction of the intersection further down the corridor, Wex piped up, "Uh, we gotta go."

"Yeah, we want to check out this monster we found!" Jinto called, already skirting down the corridor. "Tell us about the bug thing another time!"

John's face seemed to have trouble settling on blushing or going deathly white. He struggled in silence for some very precious seconds before shouting after them, "Whatever you do, don't use salt!"

Carson tried to hide the dimples cratering over his cheeks. The Major scowled.

"Just how does this stuff get around anyway?" John complained.

"I imagine Teyla is quite the proficient storyteller."

"No way, it's gotta be McKay. When I get my hands on him…"

* * *

Static growled fiercely back at Nena when she tried to reason with the particularly nasty system failure that had crept up on her overnight. Well, not really overnight. The problem had started pinging her attention a week ago, but she had been very enjoyably occupied at the time with her husband. And then there had been the near miss with Major Sheppard's team, which not only made her worry for the safety of the humans on board the Puddlejumper, but caused some anxiety for her when she realised she couldn't link up with the ship's systems and fix the problem herself.

Although Carson had quietly asked her for the best methods of bug-begone, Nena had found herself had quite a loss. They certainly hadn't had any of those under the ocean – and she was sure she would have remembered something like that at the various outposts she had docked at over the course of her life, though admittedly the past ten millennia had been devoid of exploring.

_Please work…_Nena found herself begging, and was aghast, _What am I doing? I shouldn't be trying to talk to it. Oh no…I'm turning into a human!_

Although, she had to admit that when watching humans trying to coax their computers into working properly, the process seemed to somehow work. Just one those many perplexing abilities humans possessed that seemed to smooth out the wrinkles of any technology. Well, most anyway. She had it on good authority that Carson's laptop would never ever play anything but a certain song about red balloons since she caused a glitch in the computer waking him up one morning.

Her husband had not been…too pleased with that. He's even tried to soothe his computer with softly spoken words in that deliciously warm accented voice of his…

_With a voice like that, he would have convinced _me_ to start functioning properly! _Nena declared.

This system failure had nothing to do with the wellbeing of Atlantis and inhabitants. She felt guilty for even attempting her current scheme. It wasn't so much a system failure as it was a prohibiting barrier that had strict instructions to halt any such mischief. But Nena wanted this very desperately. Although she was more than certain that Carson loved her, he just wasn't the same if they couldn't…

Nena expelled an electronic sigh that shook up a few monitors in the control room. This was so frustrating! She concentrated on the rebellious piece of machinery and called sweetly to it, with promises of being allowed to roam and mutate its purpose after she was finished with it. That last bit seemed to get the machine's attention, as she thought it would.

_This has to work,_ she thought sadly, _Or I should just vaporise my existence the way the Ancients would have by now._

* * *

When Carson entered the infirmary that morning, he became distinctly aware of a collective breath held by every single other member of the staff present. Glancing out of the corner of his eyes at the nervous expressions that gleamed on their faces, he couldn't help but pop a small smile.

He cleared his throat. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen, ye can stop stepping on eggshells. I'm not sending anyone else to the Black Hole of Calcutta. And besides which, it's a joint research project with the science department. Nothing sinister at all."

"Tell that to Dr Biro," someone whispered loudly.

Carson felt his neck reddening and cast a stern glance around the main room of the infirmary. Slowly, faces turned away as people returned to their work. Determined not to let this new piece of expedition gossip get to him, he crept into his office and shot a few guarded looks around before opening up his new laptop. He leaned back in his chair to plug the computer into an accommodating socket in the wall.

He couldn't quite explain it, but since he had married Nena, everything in the city had worked better for him. While it bothered him that all of a sudden, it was as if he could feel certain fluctuations in the systems, it did make life a little easier for him. Especially in this latest case, when he'd started to feel light headed around a piece of machinery in the domed room, next door to the where the secondary chair was housed. Further inspection had revealed it as some sort of blacklisted device in the Lantean database, where strict coding forbade any tampering or reading. Naturally, this piqued his curiosity, to the point that he finally realised what Nena had been trying to do.

"Merging of genetic material…" he muttered under his breath.

Holding out his finger in front of him, he pricked at the skin and dabbed a drop of his blood onto an Ancient scanner. The device flashed green for a few seconds before settling into a calm blue. Carson nodded over it, satisfied, and began correlating the data on his laptop. He was fairly certain he could try to get away with this without her finding out, but you never knew…

The coffee machine gave him the warning with a slight hiss. Carson glanced up guiltily and when he looked back down, a message was scrawling across his laptop.

_What are you up to, you naughty boy?_

"I thought we agreed ye weren't ta call me that."

_No. You said I shouldn't, but I just love that look on your face when I do. What are you doing with this machine? I told you it wasn't going to help with any diagnosis._

"Private project?" Carson tried hopefully.

_Nice try, my love. It won't take me too long to figure it out._

Carson's eyes widened and he flew backwards in his chair, tugging valiantly at the socket where he'd plugged his laptop into. But he was too late. The laptop sparked and began whirring uncontrollably. Gazing helplessly at it, he crossed his fingers. The silence was blissful, but he knew he couldn't trust it. Then again, maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe he could deal with it this time.

"Ninety-nine red balloons…" the laptop began singing, somewhat evilly he thought.

"Oh my God. Ye didn't. _Not again._ I'd only jus' started using that laptop!"

_Oops?_

"Don't ye 'oops' me."

_Would it help if I pouted?_

Carson considered this. "Aye, ye'd most likely found some way to wrap me around yer finger."

_Have I told you this morning that I love you?_

Chuckling uneasily, he crossed his arms and waited for her to finish sorting through his laptop. He wasn't quite expecting the song to abruptly cut out. That was new. That song was the most persistent of all, so naturally Carson wasn't sure if he wanted to trust this sudden cease fire. Especially since he had started regarding all German pop songs as computer viruses in disguise. Then the screen stopped flickering rapidly.

_WHAT are you doing?_

"Just a wee project," Carson said carefully, "Don't get too mad, my dear. I just thought I'd found a way for us to…conceive."

Silence is perhaps one of the most unnerving sounds in the universe, and Carson took the brunt of it right then. He shifted his feet and glanced down at his watch, though the bloody thing had decided to fall silent as well, whereas it usually ticked noisily. Whatever higher power was trying to unsettle him, it was working. His resolve failed him.

"I jus' thought maybe, if ye were alright with it, that we would start a family…"

_Be quiet._

"Please don't lock me out of my room."

_Carson._

"Yes?"

_SHUT UP._

"Shutting up, love," he said meekly.

_I was already working on this. I guess I should have spoken with you about it, but I didn't want to get your hopes up. Although it seems you've made greater progress than I have. _

Carson nodded and sat down in front of the laptop, smoothing out a hand over the smooth surface of his desk. Various readouts started flashing across the screen, too fast for the eye to track, but he was sure he recognised the notes he'd made in his research. He tapped the desk loudly enough to get her attention. The screen stopped whizzing.

_Carson, do you know how brilliant you are?_

"That depends. What type of brilliant are we talking about here?"

_Rodney-brilliant._

"Ye barely know the man. How can ye epitomise brilliance on him?"

_Shush you. This can work, but…_

"But? But doesn't sound good."

_Not that! The reason it can work…is probably the same reason that will explain some of your initial amnesia._

"Oh?" Carson sat up, eyes narrowing.

_I may have…inadvertently…_

"Go on."

_I did not realise that by connecting with you I was changing your life signature._

World weary, Carson slumped back in his chair and rubbed his temples. He wanted to jump around and scream like a madman, but that wouldn't help. Although, to be honest, he was daft enough to be locked up in a white padded room anyway. Or so he thought so, and some of his older brothers had thought so. He searched around his muddled thoughts for any signs of shock, even pinching his arm just to make sure. Shock wouldn't be too helpful at this point. Concluding that he wasn't suffering that affliction, Carson dropped his hands into his lap.

"I'm not surprised," he commented, "My gene has been working exceptionally. I have felt some…peculiar things as well. I was just about to run a check on my DNA, just in case."

The latest genetic material scan popped up on screen and Carson nodded agreeably. That just seemed the way to deal with things now – smile, nod and just accept it because no matter how much you could prepare yourself against the unknown, it still had a way of worming into everyday life. There was nothing out of place with his blood work that he could tell, but it was obviously making Nena very excited. Carson stretched out his arms and tucked them behind his head.

"I can't bring myself to be surprised, but then I guess I don't mind terribly much. As far as I'm concerned, I'm yers. And I can't help but get my hopes up. A baby…a wee bairn!" he finished faintly.

All of a sudden, Carson found himself practically bouncing off the walls. He careened about wildly, completely unaware of the shadow that formed across the doorway to his office and said loudly, "Imagine that! This is wonderful, love. I'd find it hard to keep this to myself. I jus' want to stand on top of a table in the mess hall and shout myself hoarse…"

"This is worse than I feared," Dr Heightmeyer announced from the door, eyes wide.

Carson stopped dead. "What are ye doing here?"

"Some of your colleagues have become concerned with your behaviour. And you haven't turned up for any of our scheduled appointments over the past few weeks."

"I haven't been hearing any voices!" Carson exclaimed, panicked.

"Then who were you just talking to?"

"Myself!" he said hotly, "Is that going to qualify as crazy? If so, ye ought to start with Rodney. He's quite good at that."

Heightmeyer frowned. "Regardless of that, it seems you have been under a lot of stress lately. I think we should talk about how you've been treating your staff."

Crap. He should have expected this. Rumour had it that Biro had some very powerful friends, and this had to be the most powerful – the one person in the entire city who could officially classify him as off the deep end. This meant only a few things and none were very appealing. So Carson chose the easy way out. He grabbed his laptop and bolted.

* * *

"I'm not crazy, perhaps a bit daft, but certainly not crazy," Carson said breathlessly.

His audience of two exchanged glances. Then Zelenka asked, "What can we do for you?"

Pacing in front of them, he shrugged helplessly, and became aware of two incredulous stares passing over him before noting the track he was wearing into the floor. Carson wrung his hands. "I don't want ye to ask questions. I just want ye to find an excuse for me to be talking to nobody."

"Role playing!" Zelenka immediately enthused.

His companion rolled his eyes. "Please, you can't know much about role playing if you think it can be used viably as an excuse, because there is a fine line between talking to yourself and role playing. And that fine line just happens to involve other people participating."

"You know much about that fine line," Zelenka pointed out, possibly smirking, "What is your idea, Rodney?"

There was a brief pause.

"I'm…in the process of concocting one right now."

"Oh, of course!" Zelenka snorted.

Rodney's eyebrows formed one angry line above his nose. "Assuming Carson has at least a few brain cells to rub together, I should be able to instruct him to perform a believable stream of dialogue consistent with theatrical performance."

"In other words, role playing."

"Your mind is so limited, Zelema," Rodney informed him gravely, "Can't you see beyond the simple and ineffective routes?"

"Zelenka."

"What?"

"It's _Zelenka_. And I believe role playing is best solution. Less is more. What do you think, Carson?"

Carson started in surprise. Without realising it, he had started to nod off. "Erm, aye. Sounds good."

"Yeah, for a Neanderthal," Rodney muttered under his breath.

Zelenka rolled his eyes.

* * *

There were few things that could surprise Peter Grodin anymore. Calmly roving his eyes over the flashing console as some systems decided fail, he settled back in his chair and considered hunting down some tea. He cracked his knuckles and entertained himself by wondering who Dr McKay was sending to tears. Ah. A truly marvellous day...McKay mysteriously missing from his daily diatribe about the many failures of the people running the control room.

"Hey Grodin, did you hear about the role playing group?" another technician piped up from beside him.

"The what?"

"Role playing group! I heard Dr Zelenka set it up."

Grodin raised his eyebrows. "Alright. If you say so, Campbell."

"No, really!" Chuck insisted, "Even Dr Beckett got involved."

Now that was surprising. Either this wild tale was getting out of hand along the line from wherever Chuck had heard it, or this galaxy had decided to mess with the order of things. Peter tapped his radio. "Dr Zelenka? Are you currently busy?"

"Busy, busy," Zelenka's voice crackled back at him.

"Doing what?"

"…ah, role playing."

"You're serious?"

"_Ano_, why wouldn't I be? Is there emergency?"

Grodin sighed and was about to shut off the connection when he heard a shrieking sound in the background. "What the hell was that?"

"Oh. That. Rodney doesn't want to play a girl, though Carson agrees with me that he is well suited for it."

"G-Grodin out."

Chuck gave him a grin. "So there."

"Oh shut up, Campbell."

All seemed right with the galaxy once again. Grodin tilted back in his chair and sighed happily. As luck would have it, the next thing that happened involved a squealing through the air, following by a strange sound. He jumped off his chair and hurried over to Chuck's work station. It sounded like a woman…singing?...over the PA system. Grodin concentrated on the sound.

And then a confused expression crossed his face.

"You and I in a little toy shop..." sung the voice.

He knew that song, somehow. It had been one of those horrendously overplayed but catchy tunes. Then he smiled. Ah. He threw back his head and belted out in time with the song, "Ninety-nine red balloons go byyyyyyyyyyyy!"

"Is this your doing?" Elizabeth Weir demanded from behind him.

Peter wheeled around and shook his head quickly. "No, of course not. But why waste the opportunity?"

She fixed him with a stare.

"There have been several strange occurrences around the city today," Gordin spoke fast in his best business voice, "I guess that's just one of them."

"Fix it. Now."

"Yes, Dr Weir."

* * *

While many humans on Atlantis stuffed fingers vainly into their ears, and while many others started singing along without realising, there was one who seemed wholly unaffected by all this. Carson Beckett sat back in the secondary chair of Atlantis and smiled up at the lights dancing over his head.

_What's troubling you?_

"Hmm?" He blinked. "Oh, jus' that we might have ta start thinking up names for our baby."

_There are many to choose from._

"I guess I'm not too fussy, so long as we don't name our child after Rodney."

_Next time I have the urge to do so, I will make sure to delete that thought process._

"I figure we're safe so long as he doesn't find out."

Nena hesitated. _What do you plan to do about the others? And our secret?_

"Love, I barely got away from Heightmeyer's clutches as it was. I'm not ready to go through any of that again. I love ye, and I wish I could tell everyone just how much, but each man has his limits."

_If they have even half the heart that you possess, I'm sure that they will accept me._

Touched, Carson rubbed his hands over the arms of the chair. He promised himself he would get around to explaining this fine mess to everyone later – much later. But for now, he had some precious moments to spend with his wife. Well, if he could just manage to turn that annoying song off.

_It's not that bad,_ chastised Nena.

"No? Have ye ever had to sit through yer college room mate playing it non-stop when ye were supposed to be studying?"

_Aww, your poor thing. How shall I ever make it up to you?_

"How much longer do ye plan on having the song running?"

_Hmm, is one hour long enough for you?_

"Perfect. Now just how were ye planning to make it up to me…oh!"

Dating in the Pegasus Galaxy might seem an entirely new experience from those that humans have to suffer through on the planet Earth, considering that this courtship comes with a new set of dangers and rules that must be observed. But whether or not your partner looks like a human, or a chair, or a Wraith (it could happen), there are several things that must remain the same. There is still the stigma of craziness that one can attach to love, as such an emotion is irrational – enough to stir a sentient city into causing an ice age, for example.

It should be noted that however rocky the courtship stage of a relationship is, there's always something more tangible look forward to. And Carson Beckett reckoned that despite stretching the boundaries of the tangible aspect, he had some of the best years of his life ahead of him.

If she would just stop playing that bloody song.

* * *

AN2: Um. I don't know where that came from. But I hoped you liked it. Anyway, if you're new to this strangeness, fear not. There is a story set after this – _So I Married A Chair_, ready for your viewing pleasure. Some of this has contradicted parts of that. Oops.

I have come to enjoy writing in this universe, since I started it at the suspicious age of not-quite-sixteen. I'm a lot older and…cough…wiser now, but I can't abandon the 'ship. I would love to write more stories about Carson and Nena…I have a few planned.

What I guess I'm saying is…anyone interested?


End file.
